


The Swap

by WaywardLass



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, Fluffy at Heart, Humor, Magic Gone Haywire, Sexy Times, Smut, Uptight Cullen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardLass/pseuds/WaywardLass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex Machine Jim inadvertently collides with Cullen and Morrigan, causing the sorceress to spill her latest concoction over the men. This causes them to temporarily swap bodies. Can they pull off acting like each other while they wait for the potion's effects to wear off? A comedy of errors. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mishap

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is silly, has a ridiculous trope (body swap!), but was tons of fun to write. I wanted to make it far raunchier, but it ended up becoming something kinda fluffy (smuffy?). It was my entry for a Badfic challenge and I thought I'd never post it. But here it is. It's also already finished, so I'll be updating regularly, as I edit chapters and gently talk myself into surrendering any hopes of ever winning a Pulitzer.
> 
>  
> 
> "Jim the Skyhold Sex Machine" appears here with the blessings of RedHawkeRevolver, of "Calendar Boys" fame.

Private Jim crossed Skyhold’s upper courtyard with a spring in his step: the sergeant had accosted him after dinner with a message and orders.

“Private, Nightingale wants to have a word with you. Said to tell you it was urgent and to meet her at the rookery at once.”

“Yes, Ser!” he saluted. “Right away!”

He crossed the bustling Main Hall and slipped down one of the side doors up a set of stairs, bounding up past the library, finally emerging in the dark and quiet rookery. At that time of the evening, the room was left eerily deserted. Large metal cages dangled from chains; ravens roosted on their perches, heads tucked under their wings. He followed the only source of light in the room—a small alcove illuminated by votive candles.

Kneeling before a golden statue of Andraste was Nightingale, in profound contemplation.

“Sister Leliana.” He approached her reverently.

She did not acknowledge his presence.

“Sergeant Marchand said you wanted a word with me?” he continued.

She finally turned her head to the side.

Jim knelt behind her and pretended to pray as well. He surreptitiously raised his eyes at the devout figure before him, admiring her straight and graceful back that curved into the temptingly round fullness of her very shapely bottom. He remained in devout contemplation of that bounty before growing restless. He sidled up to her and tentatively slipped his hands around her hips. At his touch, Leliana backed into him, pushing that delectable bottom against his groin. That was all he needed for his erection to begin throbbing against his uniform’s pants. He clasped her closely.

“I bet I know what that word is,” he whispered suggestively in her ear. “It’s ‘dick’, isn’t it?” he grinned.

She laughed lightly.

“By Andraste, Jim! Did you come up with that all on your own?” she teased in that Orlesian accent that drove him wild.

“What?” he protested, somewhat insulted. “ _I_ thought it was pretty clever.”

She nestled against him, letting her hand slide back to rub over the bulge in his pants. He hissed and she smiled.

“I am so glad you were not otherwise engaged. I really needed this tonight.”

Jim bit and kissed her neck lightly, kneading her soft, luscious breasts. She purred contentedly under his expert ministrations.

He cast a glance at the golden statue.

“Can we please do it right here this time?” he pleaded.

Leliana stiffened.

“What? No…” she stated, suddenly pulling away. “I…It’s…That’s too much,” she censured him.

Far from being deflated by any sense of shame, he found himself getting hornier. The thought of doing all kinds of perverted things with the sexy spymaster in front of the statue of Andraste was his number one fantasy. One she kept reprimanding him for. He wondered if she knew how crazy it drove him.

“Let’s go into the back room,” she indicated with a tilt of her head, standing up and tugging his hand.

“Can you at least recite the Chant of Light while we do it?” he asked weakly, looking down at himself, his poor cock straining against the fabric of his unattractive scout’s uniform. One time she’d been so excited she'd wantonly launched into reciting the names of all the Divines since Andraste. Just the memory of her panting breathlessly while uttering, “Oh, by Divine Victoria’s grace! Mmm, Divine Renata preserve me!” made his breath hitch.

“What you suggested is very inappropriate,” she scolded him provocatively, heading towards the small back room.

He arched an eyebrow.

Chant of Light or not he knew she would be crying out to the Maker before they were done. He scampered to his feet, following her around the corner, eager to tear her clothes off, bend her over the edge of the bed, and hear her make all those adorable little excited whimpers as he happily pumped away. He had enjoyed having sex with many women at Skyhold, but his trysts with Sister Leliana…Those were always divine.

 

* * *

 

Jim was pleased with himself as he sauntered down the stairs from the rookery with a confident swagger and smug grin.

 _Mission accomplished_ , he thought, making his way back towards the Main Hall.

He’d left his delicious spymaster in an exhausted slumber. It gave him a thrill to smell her scent on his skin and her taste lingering in his mouth as he went about his business in the fortress.

He was lost in a lighthearted daze, floating through the hallway oblivious to his immediate surroundings.

 _She just feels so good_ , he sighed, biting his lip, already wishing he could turn back up those stairs and awaken her with a firm slap to that bottom of hers to announce the beginning of round 3. He loved it when she sent for him, he loved how she teased him and how she responded to him, and loved how she just melted at his touch, and he just loved her, he grinned goofily—

_Wait, what?_

He stopped right in the middle of the hallway, struck by what his thoughts had revealed to him.

 _Love? What the fuck, Jim!_ he gripped his head.

Unfortunately, in his dither he’d failed to notice he had halted right in the pathway of two other people hurriedly walking down the same corridor, in opposite directions, blocking their way unexpectedly and causing a clumsy collision among them.

“Private!” he recognized Commander Cullen’s harsh tone just as something bright green and viscous spilled over him.

“Commander!” he replied dutifully.

“Oh, Blight!” a woman’s low voice growled as glass shattered nearby on the ground.

When Jim looked up, he found he and Commander Cullen covered in a gooey substance, as if a dragon had sneezed a load of snot on them. They examined each other with a perplexed stare. Whatever it was, it had a cloying, sweet odor that overpowered him, causing him to stagger backwards and his eyes to roll back and flutter shut.

He tried to catch himself, but found that his balance was completely off.

When he opened his eyes again, sitting with her legs sprawled out on the floor and glaring up at them crossly was the dark haired, green eyed sorceress the Inquisitor had been parading about with lately.

“T’is a formidable disaster,” she concluded, shaking her head.

“Well, whatever that was, I hope it washes off.”

 _Strange,_ Jim thought woozily. _Did I just say that?_

“I can find someone to clean it up,” Jim offered.

 _Huh?_ Were he and Cullen talking at the same time?

“Excuse me, Commander,” he uttered. But instead of his voice, he only heard Cullen’s.

The room was reeling and by the time he was able to focus his gaze, the sorceress was looking at the two of them with ill-concealed disdain. When he looked at the man standing beside her he saw…himself? It was! With a expression of complete panic on his face.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

 _Ha ha! I am freaking out! Look at me!_ he snorted.

“I fail to see what is so humorous!” the other Jim retorted. “Morrigan, what in the Fade is going on?”

The sorceress took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her scantily clad chest.

“I have good news and I have bad news. Which one would you prefer first?”

It was at that moment that he turned his head and found his nose buried in a clump of fur over his shoulder.

_Wait..._

He glanced down at his arms and noticed he was no longer wearing his uniform: he was in armor.

“Commander?” he asked.

Except that the question was the answer. The voice reverberating in his own head was clearly not the voice he was accustomed to hearing.

“The good news is that the formula’s effects are temporary.”

“What’s the bad news?” the other Jim asked apprehensively.

“There is no known antidote. You’ll have to wait for the effects to wear off..”

“Morrigan,” the very serious Jim continued, “how long are we talking about?”

Morrigan shrugged.

“ A day? Two?”

“Maferath’s balls!” the other Jim groaned. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime? I have a War Table meeting tomorrow morning!” he complained.

“I do?” Jim wondered bewilderedly staring at the other Jim gesticulating impatiently.

The other Jim’s expression clouded.

“You’re right…You’re right. I am you now, Jim. And you are…me. I don’t have a meeting…but YOU do, ‘Commander.’”

For a split second, still in the haze of the ill-fated potion’s spell, Jim thought that he’d been promoted, until he realized the serious stares both his Commander and the sorceress were casting him.

“We need to inform the others,” Jim-Who-Was-Cullen began.

Morrigan grimaced.

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“Why not?” the real Cullen protested.

“Because…Erm… work on this potion’s formula is of a high priority and very sensitive. If word gets out that such an accident occurred, our whole mission might be jeopardized,” Morrigan insisted. “I do not need the Inquisitor nixing this…project because of a dumb mishap.” She contemplated both men. “A mishap not caused by _me_ , I should add.”

“I can’t very well let Private Jim here go in my stead to make decisions that affect the well-being of Thedas!” Cullen cried.

Jim was having a hard time keeping a serious face.

_I can’t believe I look so funny…so…uptight!_

“If this project is scrapped, you may be dooming Evelyn to a final battle with Corypheus,” she threatened.

Cullen balked, trying to scratch his neck and hitting a cumbersome hood instead.

“It’s just for a day or so,” Morrigan reasoned. “I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow…perhaps I could bring you along with me with the excuse that you are an operative,” she suggested. “We can guide the Commander here that way.”

Cullen glanced uneasily at himself across the way. He was standing in a casual, relaxed stance, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to the side.

_Hm. I’m not bad looking, am I?_

The thought crossed Cullen’s mind with the same speed it disappeared. He did not have time for such frivolities. Besides, it wasn’t just the meeting that preoccupied him: it was the appointment he’d scheduled for tomorrow evening. He’d finally managed to arrange a quiet dinner with Evelyn. That he was charmed by the Inquisitor was no secret. At least, not to him. They had been walking circles around each other without an end in sight to their little impasse, however. He suspected she fancied him too, but their time together never went beyond engaging in conversation, playing the occasional board game in the garden, or attending a Chantry lecture together. Every moment he was able to steal away with her was precious, for it offered him hope that perhaps this time he would garner sufficient courage to reveal his true feelings or she would give him a clear sign of hers…and their rapport would move forward, beyond the sweet, but ultimately platonic friendship they had settled into.

“What do you say, Cullen?” Morrigan persisted. “Buy me some time and perhaps spare Evelyn from a very unpleasant showdown…”

It was tempting. Very tempting. He never wanted to be as anxious as he’d been when he’d watched Evelyn tumble into the abyss at Adamant.

“And you… Jim, is it?” Morrigan asked, turning to him.

“Yeah?”

“Well? Do you think you can pull off being Commander Cullen for a day or so?”

Jim shrugged, his fur-covered mantle rising slightly with his shoulders.

“Would it help, Commander?” he asked loudly.

“Sssh!” both Cullen and Morrigan hushed him.

“You are the Commander now!” Morrigan admonished him. “Try to act more authoritatively.”

Jim stood straighter, pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow.

“I said authoritatively, not constipatedly.”

“Very well,” Cullen stated. “Let’s wait this thing out. If it helps us in our fight against Corypheus, then it might be worth…the inconvenience.”

Morrigan smiled one of her unnervingly sly grins.

“Lovely! I am glad you see it my way. Now…you two should get acquainted, give each other some pointers to help with the ruse,” she advised.

Pushing some shards of glass aside with the tip of her boot, she carefully stepped away from the scene of the accident and left them both alone in the empty hallway.


	2. Trading Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Cullen and Jim each go to the other's quarters for the evening...

            Cullen lay facing the wall in Jim’s berth in the barracks. For all intents and purposes, he told Jim’s roommates that he’d suffered a concussion earlier, which helped explain why he didn’t seem to know their nicknames and kept addressing them by last name, had no idea which berth was his, where to find his belongings, and didn’t seem to want to engage in casual conversation. He was mildly horrified that his men maintained such messy quarters. Apparently, Jim’s clothes lay in a communal pile in the middle of the small bedroom shared by three others. He’d discovered this after he’d returned from bathing.

 

           “Sorry guys…I can’t seem to remember where I keep my clothes,” he muttered, opening and closing drawers.

 

           “Check the pile. If it smells fresh enough, you can claim it.”

 

           _I do not miss barracks life_ , Cullen concluded disgustedly, picking through the pile gingerly. He wished he were back in his comfortable and quiet quarters. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his own bed reading one of his books. Instead, he was lying in sheets of dubious cleanliness, wearing an undershirt with pit stains, dingy standard issue pants, and a pair of mismatched socks.

          

 _A nightmare_.

All of it: sleeping in someone else’s bed, wearing someone else’s clothes…Heck, being in someone else’s _body_ , even.

 

           While at the bathhouse he’d been thinking about how Jim was something of a slob and he couldn’t understand what it was about the man that made him so irresistible to the ladies at Skyhold.  He was willing to concede that Jim wasn’t as doltish looking out of uniform. Scouts’ uniforms did them no favors, he admitted. Those icky green and goose shit brown hues just weren’t flattering. Still, Cullen would never let his hair grow longer like Jim—he had a lush dark brown mane of hair always tucked beneath his uniform’s hood—or not shave his stubble. Jim was in adequate shape, but he wasn’t as muscular or as trim. He would even go as far as saying that Jim was a bit soft. He’d been puzzling over Jim’s popularity…until he removed his trousers and small clothes.

 

Cullen had stood for a good full minute just gaping at the sizeable—even when deflated—dick he couldn’t bring himself to touch.

 

_Maker!_

 

 _Mystery solved,_ he concluded disconcertedly.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Jim noticed about Cullen’s quarters was how neat and tidy everything was. Saying “everything” was a gross exaggeration, though, because the Commander’s quarters were pretty sparse. The only thing the Commander seemed to have an abundance of were books…and a dresser topped with various pots filled with?...

 

Jim untwisted the top of one and sniffed.

 

_Hair pomade?_

 

There were about seven or eight pots of hair pomade of different firmness and perfumes.

 

He giggled before checking himself out in the mirror.

 

_Pfff!_

          

 _I’m not going to wear any of that pomade shit. Sorry, Commander. I’ll do the other stuff we agreed on…but I draw the line at the helmet hair_ , he decided, scrutinizing his new face.

 

           _Not bad_ , he concluded, rubbing his thumb over the raised scar on his lips.

 

_Chicks dig scars._

 

The Commander was a strong man. Nice chest and ab muscles. His wardrobe left a bit to be desired, though. He knew the Commander was hailed as the “Lion of Honnleath,” but why the fuzzy mantle? It wasn’t Satinalia!

 

 _So wacky_ , he mused.

 

           He began to undress, tossing his clothes on the floor by the bed. He stared down at his crotch.

 

           _Yep. Not bad at all, Commander! I can work with this!_

 

* * *

 

Cullen’s fellow scouts were playing a game of Wicked Grace while he tried to sleep when someone rapped loudly on their door.

 

“What?” one of his roommates called out.

 

“Is Jim around?” It was a woman’s voice. “I need to talk to him.”

 

_Now what? It’s after hours! Everyone should be asleep! We are at war and everyone’s cavorting around as if we were at a nature camp!_

 

He turned around squinting tiredly before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a tunic from “the pile”, tugging it on as he approached the door. He stepped outside the narrow and dark hallway, a curious look on his face as he recognized the woman as Private Winterfeld.

 

           “Winterfeld,” he acknowledged, waiting for her question or request.

 

Instead, she pushed his back against the wall and assailed him with a deep kiss, shoving her tongue in his mouth.

 

           “Hey Jim,” she broke away, murmuring in a low voice, grinding her hips into his. “Miss me while I was gone?”

 

           Before he could reply, the woman tried to kiss him again.

 

           “Winterfeld, what are you doing?” he asked with genuine shock.

 

She offered him a lazy grin and reached down to grip his very—to his enormous shame— erect cock.

 

           “I thought I’d stop by…It’s been a while,” she whispered, nibbling at his ear.

 

           “I’m sorry—I don’t think we should,” he gasped, trying to extricate himself from her grip.

 

Her eyes widened.

 

           “What?”

 

           “This is hardly proper.”

 

           “But it’s properly hard,” she teased, rubbing him over the pants’ cloth. “Come on…” she goaded him.

 

No one had ever touched him so brazenly like that, he thought, valiantly fighting against the absolutely delightful sensations that were coursing down his shaft.

 

           “N-no…” he stammered, trying to remove her hands.

 

Winterfeld startled for a second before smiling broadly.

 

           “Are you playing coy?” she marveled in disbelief. “Damn!...” she paused. “That’s kinda hot, you sexy bastard! So what do I do now? Redouble my efforts to seduce you?”

 

           ‘Maker! No! That’s not what I meant when—”

 

He shivered when he realized she had undone the buttons to his pants and coaxed his tumescent cock out.  He stared in amazement as she knelt before him.

 

           Technically, she wasn’t trying to seduce him, _Cullen_ ; this was about _Jim_ —Jim’s body, Jim’s colorful relationship with his friends…he was just along for the ride, he justified to himself as she grinned mischievously up at him, flicking the tip of her tongue over those full lips…

 

           _Evelyn_! he thought desperately, in a moment of clarity.

 

           “I can’t do this!” he cried out, yanking his cock away from her and stuffing it awkwardly back into his pants. Winterfeld blinked at him perplexedly.

 

           “Are you serious?” she asked.

 

He nodded weakly.

 

           “Jim…you’ve never turned down a good romp—and I was just about to give you the blow job of your life!” she complained. “I was stuck at a Maker-forsaken away camp over in the freaking Hissing Wastes for a month with only Jones and Mills for company. Won’t you help a girl in need?” she pleaded flirtatiously.

 

Cullen drew in a deep breath.

 

           “I can’t,” he explained tentatively under her scrutinizing gaze. “You see…I have a concussion. And I don’t feel well right now.”

 

Winterfeld finally nodded with resignation.

 

           “Aww, Jim. I’m sorry.” She pat his arm reassuringly. “I should have known something was wrong. You do seem very off.”

 

She glanced down the hall, mercifully devoid of movement. From inside his room, laughter and rowdy conversation unfolded.

 

           “Listen—feel better, ok? And when you’re up for it, look me up.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and winked saucily before turning and walking away.

 

Cullen shook his head in disbelief. How would he ever look at Winterfeld with a straight face again after that episode? He’d remember how she pushed him against the wall…He sighed, imagining what those glistening lips slipping over the tip of his dick would feel like. It responded by stirring sympathetically in his pants.

Cullen growled lightly, resting his hands over his waist as he stiffly tried to walk off his erection.

 

           _What is up with this body_? he thought grumpily.

 

* * *

 

 _Commander Cullen’s quarters suck_ , Jim thought, lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

It was too quiet; he just couldn’t fall asleep under those conditions. Back at the barracks the guys would be chumming around, a game of Wicked Grace would be underway...

 

How the evening could have gone downhill so quickly after such an amazing beginning, he couldn’t understand.

 

            _Maybe it’s Andraste’s punishment for doing all those dirty things with Sister Leliana_ …he thought. But rather than be overcome with guilt, he recalled her bent over the edge of the bed, her leathers and small clothes yanked halfway down her thighs, and her fine, pert ass wiggling expectantly as she grinned cheekily at him over her shoulder…It was enough to cause his trousers to tent.

 

_Oh yeah…_

 

Maybe he just needed to ease the tension himself…That would help him settle. He looked around wondering if the Commander had anything good lying around for him to look through to help his imagination along. He searched under the bed, peered into the dresser, making sure to check beneath the neatly folded and color-coded clothes. He even climbed down the ladder and browsed through his bookshelf. Maybe there would be something there? Maybe hidden behind a suggestive title?

 

            He thought he had hit the jackpot when he came across a flimsier bound book entitled _Catalog of The Wonders of Thedas,_ but the only thing he found himself wondering about was why the book didn't offer him any nudes. He placed it back on the shelf disappointedly: it was just a descriptive list of bizarre inventory from a shop in Denerim.

 

He tried another book with some renewed enthusiasm: _The Holy Brazier_. As he was unsure as to how to pronounce the last word, he fiercely hoped that it alluded to breasts.

 

It didn’t.

 

He stayed up reading the first sixty pages, balking and gasping as the plot unfolded. Sixty pages and no boobs. There had been plenty of Andrasteans immolating themselves in flames, wraiths, and black pearls from Tevinter, though. Lots of people were getting fucked in the story, but not in the way he enjoyed, he concluded, flipping through the pages.

 

 _What did I just read?_ _I’m not going to make it through the night_ , he covered his head dramatically with his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Holy Brazier is a codex entry. It's pretty surreal. Poor Jim.


	3. A Reputation to Uphold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns what his sterling reputation really means to the good folks at Skyhold.

 Cullen was exhausted by the time dawn rolled around. He’d slept poorly for a variety of reasons: dread, apprehension, doubt, the stench of stale sweat permeating the bedroom, the snores of his roommates recalling a marsh on a summer evening, and finally, the memory of Winterfeld’s tantalizing lips about to engulf his cock, forcing him to rein in his basest urges.

            He got out of bed before the call to rise was sounded and picked through the pile of clothes with clear revulsion. He donned his scout's uniform and set off for the mess hall, where he would be on the lookout for Jim.

* * *

Jim ran his fingers through his hair and examined Commander Cullen’s handsome face in the mirror over the washbowl. He’d decided not to slick back the Commander’s hair, letting it look a bit unruly instead. He also thought the stubble growing on his face made him look more rugged, more manly.

 He looked at the armor he’d left strewn messily over the ground the previous night.

 

            _Meh. The Commander doesn’t do combative drills until the afternoon. I’ll change then... if I feel like it._

 

He searched through the Commander’s wardrobe for some clothes. He didn’t find much—it seemed the Commander preferred to be in armor at all times, he noted.

 

            _All that armor’s too hot and heavy_ , he thought, choosing a white tunic and black trousers.

 

He admired himself in the mirror after dressing and completed his look with boots. Pleased with the effect, he grinned at himself.

 

            “Why wear heinous uniforms if I don’t have to? I'm the Commander now!” he cackled.

* * *

 

Cullen sat among other soldiers and scouts at the fringes of the animated chatter, with a bowl of porridge sitting before him. He chewed morosely, watching the doorway. Jim should have already been there, he sulked. He liked to enforce punctuality by example.

           In the half hour or so he’d been awake, he’d noticed that many women had greeted him very suggestively. While in line for his breakfast, he’d been goosed by the lady behind him. He’d yelped so loudly—more out of shock than anything else—that the entire mess hall had fallen silent and turned to observe him.

           His companions at the table had taken to speaking for him.

           “I would let him be—suffered a concussion…Isn’t quite himself yet,” one of his roommates apologized as a group of cheerful infirmary helpers approached their table.

           _Maker, Jim! I need to keep you more occupied so you won’t attempt to occupy yourself_ …

Just as he resumed dipping his spoon into the porridge, he realized all the voices around him had dropped to excited whispers.

He raised his head, glancing about the mess hall curiously.

He blanched as he watched a more brazen version of himself saunter past all the tables in finer civilian clothes. His hair was a mess, looking positively untamed, he realized with horror. And that stubble! That made him look…untidy! And what was that cocky strutting? He wanted to slap that half grin off his own face. He glanced around in a mild panic, terrified of what his men and women would think. He’d worked so hard to secure their respect, and here was Jim spending all his hard-earned currency by acting so foolishly!

           “Won’t you look at that!” a woman in leathers behind him stated appreciatively.

           “Praise to whoever got Commander Cullen the can opener to extricate himself from that armor!”

           “Oh, I don’t know! I always thought he looked dashing in his armor,” another woman offered.

           “Yeah, I second that…But don’t you think there’s something different about the Commander today?” the first woman continued.

They watched him disappear into the Officers’ dining quarters.

           “Mm-hmm,” one intoned melodiously to the merriment of the other women.

           “Still high on the fuckability scale…” another concluded to a burst of laughter.

 _Fuckability scale?_ His eyes widened in shock. That’s not how he wanted them to be thinking of him!

           “Not like any of us have a chance with him though,” the woman in leathers sighed.  She turned her head to glance at him, sitting behind them in an apoplectic dither.

           “But at least we have Jim, don’t we, ladies?” she grinned.

           “Oh, yes,” another woman winked suggestively. “And there’s always enough of Jim to go around,” she purred. “More than once.”

At that moment Cullen couldn’t decide what was a greater threat to his well being: Corypheus… or Jim.

* * *

              Jim sat apart from everyone else with Morrigan, under the pretense of examining some "important documents" she’d brought. The "important documents", however, were nothing more but drawings by her son Kieran.

            “I think he has got talent, but his father will not hear it. I told him, 'What is the point of doing something if you are not passionate about it? Let the boy draw…'" her voice trailed off as she affectionately contemplated the sketch of a giant claw threatening a group of stick-figure peasants. "But Aedan is _such_ a Cousland. He says drawing is for artisans, not nobles,” she complained. “That man could be eating grubs and tubers in the middle of burned down ruins in a forest and he would still tip up his pinkie,” Morrigan snorted. “Ah, what I would not give to cast a bolt of lightning at him right now,” she grinned wistfully.

 

            Jim had not been listening.

 

            “What?

 

Morrigan frowned.

 

            “Just shut up and do us both a favor: let Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra make all the decisions at the meeting today, agreed?”

 

Jim’s head shot up.

 

            “Sister Leliana? She'll be at the meeting?”

 

Morrigan pursed her lips.

 

            “Listen, you are in enough trouble as it is. Your little wardrobe ruse has caused quite the frisson,” she revealed, her eyes perusing the crowd. “Cullen is never this casual…or laid back,” she informed him. “Try to keep quiet. For _all_ our sakes,” she grumbled.         


	4. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Evelyn Trevelyan doesn't know what the hell is going on and Jim is confronted with a very unpleasant possibility. Not shown in this chapter: Morrigan, shrugging her shoulders and not giving a shit about everything going down.

            “Good morning,” Cassandra stated dryly, greeting them all as they surrounded the War Table.

 

            “We have a few pressing matters to address this morning,” Josephine announced, placing a small stack of letters and scrolls on the table.

 

Evelyn cast furtive glances at Cullen. Something was decidedly different about the Commander that day, she thought. It was strange not seeing him in his armor. He looked very relaxed as he stood with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side. She never realized how muscular the Commander was even when not wearing his armor. Those clothes were too informal, as he was on duty, and she would have to bring it up at some point… but he did look striking in them, she had to admit. And his hair that morning looked tousled and a little wild.

 

            _I’d like to touch it_ …she caught herself thinking longingly.

 

He raised those light brown eyes at her and she froze. They often did that during those meetings—they’d catch each other staring and awkwardly looked away. But this time he did not look away. He brazenly nodded and smiled.

 

She directed her flustered gaze to Morrigan, who had brought along a Private who she insisted was an operative. The man wore a scout’s uniform and stood quietly at the sorceress' side. She had caught him unabashedly staring at her.

 

            _Everyone’s always a little awestruck to meet the Inquisitor up close, I suppose_ , she sighed, glancing down at the mark on her hand. _I wonder if I measure up to the expectations?_

 

            The scout had a kind expression, though—a certain seriousness she appreciated. He remained standing stiffly, at the ready.

 

            “Private,” she called out gently.

 

He continued to stare at her, but did not appear to register that she was speaking to him. Morrigan’s elbow shot out to poke him in the ribs.

 

            “Ah—yes, Inquisitor! Your Worship!” he babbled nervously.

 

She concealed a smile. She decided she liked the Private already. She’d have to ask Cullen about him sometime.

 

            “You may be at ease,” she told him. “These meetings can last a while.”

 

            “I know,” he grinned sympathetically.

 

Morrigan cleared her throat.

 

            “I mean—of course! Thank you, Inquisitor!”

 

            “Shall we begin?” Josephine asked, looking around the table.

 

            “Yes,” Leliana seconded. “But I just need to say this before we begin: Cullen, this is a new look for you!” she teased, leaning past Josephine and addressing the Commander.

 

Rather than offer them the usual volley of self-deprecating comments or simply ignore her, he smoothed the front of his tunic and arched an eyebrow at her.

 

            “Are you saying you like it?” he flirted.

 

Blank stares crossed the table. Leliana couldn’t help cracking a disconcerted smile.

 

            “I was just saying that it is different…for you, that is!”

 

Evelyn blinked a couple times in disbelief.

 

_That was so uncharacteristic of Cullen!_

 

As Josephine began to present the queries and requests they had received, Evelyn kept finding her gaze drawn to the Commander.

 

She had to admit he looked very handsome. She also had to say that seeing him looking so positively delicious was making her wish things between them would progress faster. Cullen was very articulate. She knew he held her in the highest regard. That he admired her. He told her those things time and again…but if only he’d _act_ on all that fervent admiration…

* * *

 

That morning there was something odd she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

 

He was quiet. Too quiet.

 

Cullen was opinionated and never refrained from expressing his point of view. He often challenged them on choices, offered alternatives, questioned courses of action…But at the meeting he'd said little, and what little he did say consisted of hasty agreements with whatever decision had been proposed by the others. Her unease was compounded when she noticed that he kept sneaking steamy looks at the spymaster.

 

In his gaze she could distinguish a fire she had never seen before. It was raw and lusty…and was not directed, as she would have hoped, at her.

 

Evelyn looked away, trying to compose herself. She met instead with the Private’s sad eyes. She felt overwhelmed all of a sudden.

 

            “I’m sorry,” she stated abruptly. “Since we are almost done, I’d like to head back to my quarters. I am not feeling very well at the moment.”

 

Before anyone could stop her, she had whirled around and burst past the doors into the stony hallway.

 

            _This is ridiculous, Evelyn. Pull yourself together. You are merely imagining things. You have to focus on Corypheus right now. There is no time for sentimental nonsense_ , she censured herself.

 

But she had seen it. Clearly. Cullen staring hungrily at Leliana, appraising her figure, running those covetous eyes over her body.

 

He had _never_ looked at her that way.

 

Maybe it was because he had never felt that way about _her_. She had never seen that aspect of Cullen’s before…Perhaps, in light of his inaction on the courting front and his sudden interest in Leliana, it was because he had never intended her to become familiar with that side of his…

 

She drew in a sharp breath.

 

Maybe he only thought of her with the type of respect and reverence afforded someone he admired. He was, after all, so formal with her, so polite, standing on so much ceremony.

 

She remembered the uncontained desire in those eyes.

 

Leliana was someone he knew much better, had worked so closely with in the past. Leliana and he shared a common background, history, experience, were involved with the Chantry.

 

And she?

 

She was a _mage_.

 

Everything the Commander despised, she realized. Yes, he had changed his tone considerably since they’d reached Skyhold. She had fervently hoped that his feelings towards mages had been swayed…She had even convinced herself that something deep and tender had begun to grow between them and that in time they would garner enough courage to push past their shared shyness to claim it.

 

But that morning had been a wake-up for her.

 

Cullen was, at heart, a Templar.

 

And a Templar could never learn to love a mage.

 

She dragged the back of her hand over her eyes, suppressing a surge of tears when she heard hurried footsteps halt behind her.

 

            “Inquisitor!” a voice called out plaintively.

 

She turned to find the scout standing there. She sniffed and stared in bewilderment.

 

            “Please allow me to escort you to your quarters, since you are not well,” he suggested. “You should not be left alone.”

 

Her first instinct had been to shoo him away so she could be left with her sorrow, but something about the scout’s plaintive expression made her hold her tongue.

 

            “Very well, she acquiesced. “Lead the way then.” She stepped aside and let him open the door for her.

 

* * *

 

 

            Evelyn said precious little to him as they walked towards her quarters. Cullen could tell she was very distraught—he’d learned to pick up on shifts in her moods. It was with a heavy heart that he walked her to her bedroom’s door.

 

            “Thank you, Private…?” she paused and glanced up at him.

 

            “Jim!” he revealed. “The name is Jim.”

 

            “Jim” she repeated pensively.

 

            “Do you need anything else, your Worship?” he stalled.

 

            “No, thank you.” She unlocked the door.

 

            “Then I will take my leave, with your permission,” he announced, watching her disappear from his view. “I should really get back to keeping an eye on the ‘Commander,’” he grumbled crossly.

 

He’d meant that as an aside to himself, but realized, as Evelyn opened the door widely once more, that he’d been overheard.

 

            “What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.

 

Cullen scratched the back of his neck over the hood nervously. Maker, how he _hated_ that uniform!

 

            “I, uh, meant to say that I should get back to the War Table…”

 

Evelyn was persistent.

 

            “No, no: you mentioned you needed to keep an eye on the Commander. I want to know _why_. Is there something the matter with him?”

 

He wracked his brain for something that would come across as a valid excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything convincing.

 

            “The truth is,” he began apprehensively, “that the Commander…Well, Inquisitor…I am sure you noticed. He just…isn’t himself today,” he began weakly.

 

            “I knew it!” she cried out triumphantly. She ushered Jim inside. “You must tell me _exactly_ what is going on, Private Jim. Spare no details,” she told him vehemently.

 

_Oh, Maker._

 

* * *

 

            “That was a smooth meeting!” Josephine announced cheerfully, tapping her stack of papers into an organized bundle over the war table.

 

            “Yes, it was. I'm surprised myself. I thought we'd be stuck here for hours! Are you sure you are feeling all right, Cullen?” Cassandra joked. “I can’t believe you didn’t try to elbow in on some of the operations I’ll be undertaking!”

 

            “I can always step up if I am needed to fix any messes,” he kidded.

 

He noticed he’d succeeded in charming the Ambassador and even the Seeker with his laid back, playful manner. The spymaster, though, examined him pensively beneath her hood.

 

            “Cullen.”

 

Her hand stilled over his arm as he began to leave the room, following the others.

 

            “Do you have a moment?” she asked.

 

            “Yeah, sure!” he replied.

 

            “Good.” She wandered past the table towards the exit. “Come to the rookery in a moment. I’d like to have a word with you.”

 

Jim went pale.

 

            _I’d like to have a word with you._

 

Wasn’t that what she had messengers tell him anytime she wanted to see him?

 

Granted, he and Leliana had never talked about not seeing other people. He was always one to believe in the freedom of both men and women to do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted…But even though he and Leliana always had those intense encounters, he had to admit that he looked forward to their pillow talks afterwards, when she’d be in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and lazily running her fingertips up and down his chest…

 

He didn’t want to imagine her with anyone else and he most certainly didn’t want to imagine her in Commander Cullen’s arms.

 

Jim’s heart sank as he left the War Table.


	5. Chaos and Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Cullen's attempts at matchmaking are more cringeworthy than your parents' and Jim gets terribly flustered and not in the good way. Not featured: Morrigan lazily eating chocolate truffles while getting a pedicure, still not giving a shit.

 

            Cullen sat on the settee by the stairwell, beside Evelyn.

 

            “What is going on with Cullen?” she asked.

 

He peered into those clear, earnest eyes and felt a tug to his heart.

 

            “It’s not as bad as it’s going to sound, but it will seem a bit confusing at first. Let me put it this way: both Private Jim and Commander Cullen crashed into Morrigan, who happened to be carrying a magic potion at the time, and she ended up spilling it all over them. Unfortunately, the potion caused them to swap bodies, so that Private Jim is currently in Commander Cullen’s—my—body, and I, Commander Cullen, am in Private Jim’s body,” he blurted out.

 

Evelyn furrowed her brow, troubled.

 

            “So you are saying that in reality you are _Commander Cullen_ and that the man in there was really _Private Jim_? Because of a magic potion?...”

 

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded, hopeful.

 

Evelyn continued giving him a hard stare until she burst out laughing.

 

Cullen was crestfallen.

 

            “That is too much!” she gasped. “It’s the most wretched attempt at covering for a superior that I’ve ever heard!”

 

She shook her head, the grin gradually fading.

 

            “No, but seriously, Private: while I commend you on your loyalty to your Commander, I need to know what is really going on and if I need to take any action,” she stated, less mirthfully.

 

 _I tried,_ he told himself _. I really did._

 

            “Very well, Inquisitor. It was a concussion,” he declared grudgingly.

 

At this a flash of realization appeared in her eyes.

 

            “I see…” She settled back into the settee. “Oh, Cullen! He shouldn’t have gone to the meeting…he should be resting, if that is the case.”

 

Cullen was touched by the concern in her face.

 

            “You know the Commander,” Cullen quickly added. “He hates sitting around when there is so much do…”

 

She nodded, agreeing.

 

            “He should be back to himself soon, but the healer said he is still in a rather delicate condition and might be acting somewhat…out of character for a brief time,” he explained.

 

She considered his words.

 

            “I see…But…Why didn’t anyone simply tell me this before? And why are you privy to all this?” she questioned.

 

Cullen pondered that. Between standing in the steaming pile of unwashed clothes in Jim’s room or being there flubbing lies to Evelyn, he thought he preferred the malodorous heap.

 

            “Um, I was…there, you see. When it happened! And Commander Cullen…he was very upset. Very!” Cullen gesticulated nervously as Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.

 

Things did not look good. Perhaps Evelyn thought Jim had had something to do with Cullen’s odd behavior?

 

            _Think, man! Think! You can improvise battle strategies, but fall apart when questioned by the woman you fancy?_ he chastised himself.

 

The solution dawned upon him.

           

_That’s it! Perhaps he could make that body swap work in his favor, after all!  
_

 

            “Commander Cullen,” he began again, more steadily, “even in a daze, didn’t want to shirk off any of his duties. He stated, and I quote, ‘I need to give the Inquisitor all my support at this crucial time.’ In fact, Inquisitor, you were all he could think about,” he admitted.

 

            Evelyn’s expression eased and a charming blush rose to her cheeks.

 

            “I see,” she said almost bashfully.

 

At that moment he was seized by an impulse to kiss her, an impulse he immediately repressed. Besides horrifying Evelyn, it would most definitely land Jim in a prison cell.

 

            “Inquisitor…May I speak freely?”

 

She examined him for a moment before agreeing.

 

            “Forgive me if I seem bold in telling you this…I think there is something you should know about the Commander and his feelings towards you,” he began.

 

Evelyn’s face grew redder.

 

            “What is that?” she asked eagerly.

 

Now was his moment: the time for confessing his innermost feelings:

 

            “He…is very _fond_ of you, Inquisitor,” Cullen declared tenderly.

 

He gazed upon her expectantly, anticipating her reaction of delight.

 

Evelyn, however, merely blinked a few times and looked away, slightly discomfitted. Cullen glanced about in helpless dismay.

 

_But what? What did I do wrong? Why does she look so sad? I just told her I was very fond of…_

_Oh._

_“Fond.”_

 

One is _fond_ of the sweet paintings of kittens by painter Odile de Chatelet. One is _fond_ of cleverly worded roundelays. And Dowagers are always _fond_ of their grandchildren.

 

 _Perhaps “Fond” isn't the best word to express one’s passion_ , he concluded.

 

 _Come on_ , he urged himself. _You can do better than that._

 

            “Nay, Inquisitor. I do not afford the sentiments he expressed any justice!” he quickly amended. “The Commander,” he began, “is quite… _awestruck_ by you.”

 

Evelyn pursed her lips dubiously.

 

            “Awestruck?” She squinted at him. “He actually said that? So what does that mean?” she puzzled disappointedly.

 

_Oh, balls!_

 

            His matchmaking opportunity was going down in flames. _  
_

* * *

 

 

            Jim was dreading the ascent to the rookery. He hesitated at the bottom of the last stairwell leading into the dark room, bracing himself to learn things he would rather not know.

 

            When he reached the landing, he found the room silent, as if empty. The makeshift altar was dark, the many votive candles unlit.

           

            “Leliana?” he called out. “I’m here,” he announced, glancing about.

 

Perhaps she’d been detained on her way? He wandered back towards the stairwell, somewhat relieved that he wasn’t about to find out what business she wanted with the Commander, but before he understood what was happening to him, he found his arm being wound up behind him and his chest unceremoniously slammed into the stone wall.

 

            “Listen very carefully,” the hushed voice cautioned him in his ear as it wrenched his arm up painfully. “You will answer my questions honestly, or you will not be leaving this fortress alive.”

 

            “Leliana?” he stammered, his cheek squished against the rough wall.

 

            “Who are you?” she asked coolly. “You are most definitely not Commander Cullen.”

 

 _Wow. Nothing gets by her,_ he thought with an infatuated half grin. _She’s so smart._

 

            “Who are you and who sent you?” She unsheathed a dagger and placed it uncomfortably close to his neck.

 

Commander Cullen would not be pleased if he returned to his body and found it…scratched.

 

Or worse. What if she made short order of him then and there?

 

He panicked.

 

              “It’s me!” he cried, oblivious to the fact he sounded like Cullen, only floundering. “I can explain!”

 

She began to search him for any hidden weapons. Satisfied she'd found nothing, she spun him around and pushed him down onto the floor.

 

            “Start talking,” she ordered him. The dagger flashed between her hands in the dark room.

 

Her hardened expression, the steely eyes, the tough armor…Her shrewdness and toughness were legendary.

 

            Andraste’s titties, she was making him so hot right then.

 

            “Okay, okay…let me tell you: I may _look_ like Cullen, but I'm really Jim. You see, I was walking down the hallway the other day and then I full on crashed into Commander Cullen and Lady Morrigan. She spilled this gross potion over us and somehow I ended up in the Commander’s body and the Commander is now in my body. It’s all good though: she said the effects should wear off soon.” 

 

Leliana's brow furrowed.

 

            “What? That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard!” she complained. “You expect me to believe that? Who are you?”

 

            “I just told you!” he complained. “I’m Jim. But I am stuck in Commander Cullen’s body thanks to Lady Morrigan’s magic potion.”

 

            “I’m going to need some proof,” she stated suspiciously. “You don’t expect me to believe that just because you say so.”

 

            “Proof?” Jim scratched his head. “Like, you want me to demonstrate what we usually do when we’re together up here?” he arched an eyebrow at her suggestively.

 

Leliana’s hand shot up to cover her mouth.

 

            “Maker! Is it possible?”

 

            “Go ahead: ask me something only I would know!” he challenged her.

 

            “What…?” she hesitated, somewhat dazed by the revelation. “Fine: when was the last time I called you here for…a meeting?”

 

He chuckled and noticed her disconcerted expression.

 

            “Just yesterday evening. You were kneeling right over there,” he indicated with a tilt of his head. He sucked in the bottom of his lip. “You must have been really looking forward to it because you were so hot and wet when I slipped my fingers over your—”

 

            “Stop!” she cried, cupping both her cheeks in dismay.

 

            “It’s me,” he said cheerfully. “Now do you believe me?”

 

She paced back and forth.

 

            “Why wasn’t I notified of this? This is a disaster!”

 

            “Lady Morrigan told us the effects were temporary and said that if anyone else found out, the Inquisitor might miss out on a chance to benefit from the top secret potion.”

 

Leliana appeared restless.

 

            “That is such nonsense…” she growled. “That’s just so typical of Morrigan. The ends justify the means! Everything in her quest for ultimate knowledge and power! No consideration for those affected by her machinations,” she complained. “Any idea of where the real Cullen is right now?”

 

Jim shrugged.

 

            “He chased after the Inquisitor.”

 

            “I’m not surprised,” she snapped.

 

Jim merely blinked, taken aback by her sudden outburst.

 

            “Well, you did put on quite the spectacle today!” she censured him. “First, you dress like that—something Cullen would never do—and then you show up at the meeting behaving so aberrantly!”

 

            “You don’t like the new look?” he asked in a hurt tone.

 

            “It’s not whether I like it or not! It’s drawing too much attention to you. Besides, your little antics in the War Room were not appreciated! Cullen would have never behaved so brazenly, so disrespectfully!”

 

Jim balked.

 

            “What? How was I disrespectful?”

 

            “The way you were staring at me!”

 

            “What’s wrong with that? I was just looking! Is Commander Cullen supposed to pretend he's blind, or something?” he protested.

 

            “Jim,” she stated patiently. “Commander Cullen is a very…discreet… person. Even if he were disposed to express such sentiments openly, he would not have directed them towards me. Everyone knows he is devoted to the Inquisitor!”

 

The discovery astonished him.

 

            “The Commander and the Inquisitor have a thing going on? Really?”

 

Leliana drew a deep breath.

 

            “Jim, I will personally throw you down this mountain from the ramparts if you breathe a word of this to anyone else,” she threatened him.

 

He recoiled from her, crossing his arms, offended.

 

            “I never kiss and tell,” he sulked. “You know I can keep a secret.”

 

Her expression softened and she smiled.

 

            “Yes. That is true. I have never worried about your being a gossip.”

 

That was much better.

 

            “Don't blame me for staring today...It was really something watching you at the meeting this morning,” he insinuated.

 

            “Oh?” she asked coyly.

 

            “Oh, yes,” he grinned. “I was having a hard time focusing on anything else as you went on about operatives and…and Corypheus this…and the bad guys that…Wow!” he sighed. He cast her a wolfish look. “Do you think you could sneak us into the War Room sometime?”

 

She tried to suppress a grin.

 

            “Whatever for?”

 

He approached her, backing her up against the wall.

 

            “I want to fuck you on the War Table,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “I’m going to make you come all over Thedas,” he murmured, leaning closer to her. “Bend you over Ferelden and take you from behind like the Avvar tribesmen do their women…” Her breath hitched at his words. “And in Orlais,” he continued, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her cheek, “I’m going to lick your clit as if it were a sweet little Royan candy…”

 

She closed her eyes and shivered with delight. She grasped his arm.

 

            “Mhmm…Why don’t you give me a preview in the back room?” she suggested, her eyes hooded with desire.

 

            He was getting giddy at the thought of demonstrating what he had planned for her in Antiva, when he realized that the arm she was clasping was not his, but Commander Cullen’s. And the last thing he wanted was Commander Cullen anywhere near his Leliana. Naked. Especially not his dick. Why would she propose such a thing? Did she not care about him? Was he just a toy? Didn’t the time they had spent together mean anything?

 

            He swatted at her hand, suddenly irritated.

 

            “How _dare_ you!” he cried out.

 

Leliana drew back in surprise.

 

            “But I thought…”

 

            “What about JIM?”

 

            “But…you are Jim, aren’t you?” she attempted to reason with him.

 

            “Yes…Yes, I am,” he admitted, scratching his head in confusion. “BUT DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!” he accused, upset. “I can’t believe you would just go off and do it with Commander Cullen! What about Jim’s— _my_ —feelings, Leliana? I thought we had a good thing going! I haven’t even wanted to be with anyone else since we started seeing each other. I thought you _cared_. I thought you thought I was someone _special_ ,” he lamented. “Poor Jim.”

 

Leliana stared back in astonishment.

 

            “I…erm…I just thought it would be kind of fun…You just make Cullen…very different, that’s all…” she attempted to appease him. “It would have been for the novelty…”

 

He stood up shaking his head.

 

            “Shame on you, Leliana! Tossing away all my love and devotion!”

 

Leliana couldn't contain her stupefaction.

 

            “Love?”

 

A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck and without a further word, he turned on his heels and scampered down the stairwell before she could say anything else.

 

It was the worse day ever, he decided.

 

_Well, perhaps not as horrible as Haven._

_Or Adamant._

_Or the Arbor Wilds._

 

But it was still pretty shitty.


	6. The Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this next installment, along with other exciting intrigue: Skyhold's sergeant contemplates early retirement, Jim's colleagues resentfully plot to push an overachieving "Jim" into the mud pit at the obstacle course, and Morrigan is so very freshly and originally compared to a feline! (Because cats, too, couldn't care less.)

            Cullen showed up for training drills feeling terribly glum. He’d tried so hard to convey his true feelings to Evelyn, but ended up bungling everything: she was under the impression that he thought of her as his best pal.

 

He thought he was being chivalrous and elegant, but he’d ended up confusing her instead. He felt foolish afterwards as he hastily bid his leave and left her puzzling over his murky lukewarm expressions of affection. He’d meant to help his cause and instead doomed himself further.

 

            “Well done, Jim! You are working hard today!” the sergeant praised him during their drills.

 

            “What’s up with Prince of Thedas here?” one of Jim’s friends asked, watching Cullen hurl himself at an obstacle course with obstinate tenacity.

 

            “Private Jim!” Commander Cullen emerged unexpectedly at the entrance of the training ring, beckoning him.

 

            “Commander!” the sergeant saluted him respectfully. “Will you be taking over training now?”

 

The Commander often liked to oversee his men’s training himself.

 

            “Not today. I need to have an urgent word with this man,” he stated sternly.

 

As the sergeant watched Jim leave the grounds hurriedly, he turned to the corporal.

 

            “Have you noticed how Jim’s been getting a lot of attention lately from folks up high? Nightingale, Lady Morrigan, and now Commander Cullen… All calling him aside to confer with him… Am I missing something, Silas?” he fretted. “Is this the same Jim? _Our_ Jim? The Jim who during his last timed obstacle course test wove his way past swinging pylons with a sandwich firmly ensconced in his hand?”

 

The corporal guffawed, but quickly composed himself, shrugging sympathetically.

 

* * *

 

            “Hey Commander Cullen!” Jim began giddily. “Kinda neat that I got you out of practice, huh?” he nodded conspiratorially.

 

            It was awkward for Jim to discover that his face was capable of such serious, disapproving expressions.

 

            “I happen to enjoy drills,” Cullen scolded him. “And YOU could certainly use them,” he stated, pinching his—or Jim’s— love handles.

 

Jim fell into a sullen silence.

            “Let’s go meet with Morrigan. I am hoping this nightmare will be over soon,” Cullen huffed.

 

They walked across the courtyard purposefully, with Jim leading. Cullen followed behind at a close distance. When they climbed the stairwell into the room in which Morrigan had set up her study and laboratory, they found the sorceress at ease, reading a large leather-bound tome and sipping a cup of tea.

 

            “Morrigan,” Cullen asked incredulously. “I thought you were working on concocting us an antidote!”

 

Morrigan smacked her lips slowly and contemplated the mismatched duo standing before her.

 

            “I did explain that the potion’s effects would eventually wear off—“

 

            “’Eventually’ is just too vague!” Cullen complained. “I need this curse to be broken now!” he ordered impatiently. “I have had enough of this! I have matters to attend to! This is irresponsible!”

 

Morrigan’s green eyes flashed with feline-like astuteness as she cupped her teacup and brought it to her lips.

 

            “Would those other ‘matters’ involve, perhaps, the Inquisitor?”

 

Cullen stammered for a few moments before responding.

 

            “As a matter of fact, I have a meeting with her tonight.”

 

Morrigan’s eyes shifted to Jim.

 

            “You mean, Jim does.”

 

            “I am going to say it once more and I do pray you catch my not-so-subtle meaning: I have a meeting with the Inquisitor tonight. A very important meeting. A meeting I need to be present at—fully present— body _and_ mind. And I need you to make it so I can be there.”

 

Morrigan rolled her eyes in a manner Cullen found infuriating: his sister had often done the same thing to him.

 

She rose from her comfortable chair and walked towards the two men, placing a hand over both their foreheads. A burst of pale light emanated from her fingertips along with a low hum that reverberated deeply into their heads as she made contact with their skin.

 

Jim closed his eyes, overcome by lightheadedness.

 

            “Well?” Cullen persisted.

 

Morrigan stepped aside, absorbed in her thoughts.

 

            “I did not sense anything indicating that the potion’s hold is waning.”

 

            “Maker!” Cullen interjected.

 

            “Oh, calm down,” she hushed him. “T’is not befitting of a commander to behave thus.”

 

            “I am quite sure most commanders have never found themselves in such a predicament!”

 

Morrigan brushed her fingers over the clump of black feathers on her shoulder.

 

            “I told you already: the potion should wear out by tomorrow morning…or early afternoon at the very latest.”

 

            “That’s not good enough,” Cullen argued.

 

            “It will have to do,” Morrigan retorted curtly. “Antidotes take time, Commander. By the time I come up with something, you and Private Jim here will have swapped bodies. T’is not worth the effort.”

 

            “Then what am I supposed to do? What about my meeting with the Inquisitor?”

 

            “Simple: cancel it,” Morrigan suggested.

 

It had crossed his mind, but after that afternoon’s ill-fated exchange where he had only hampered his chances with Evelyn by trying to persuade her of his feelings through “Jim’s” meddling intercession, he was desperate to make amends and get himself back in her good favor.

 

            “I cannot do that,” he lamented.

 

            “Then,” she said, picking her cup up from the table and heading towards the door, “I propose you give Private Jim here some very clear guidelines…and limits.” She winked.

 

They watched the witch leave their company with an infuriating little wave before turning the corner.

 

Cullen scowled. If he didn’t owe such a tremendous debt of gratitude towards Aedan Cousland for all he’d done for Ferelden, and for saving his and so many others’ lives…

 

            “So Commander? What should I discuss with the Inquisitor at your meeting?” Jim wondered, leaning against the wall.

 

Cullen whirled around and faced himself.

 

            “The good news is that she thinks I have a concussion. If you act somewhat uncharacteristically, she won’t be…too alarmed.” Cullen cast an uneasy look at Jim, looking so relaxed and confident in his skin. “Still, you need to _behave_.”

 

But if he behaved that night maybe she would take it as confirmation that he wasn’t interested in her romantically. What if another sedate evening between them was all that it took to push her into someone else’s arms?

 

            “You need to behave…but you need to demonstrate… somehow…deep affection,” Cullen explained with a pained grimace. “Do you understand? Do you think you can display…desire…without actually…acting on it?”

 

Jim tilted his head in a bewildered fashion.

 

“Huh? I don’t get it, Commander. What are you asking me to do? You’re not asking me to get…You know…” His eyes widened meaningfully. “With the Inquisitor?”

 

 _Augh_! Cullen despaired. _This is pointless! I lose either way. If Jim goes and acts politely, Evelyn will be convinced I’m just her comrade in arms, but if Jim acts and expresses anything physically_ …

 

Cullen’s expression hardened.

 

 _Jim_.

 

The man whose sexual prowess was legendary.

 

Because of Jim’s reputation, Cullen had endured being goosed, pinched, catcalled, and groped by random women throughout Skyhold.

 

He wasn’t blind. He’d also seen how women had reacted to the “new” Cullen—all the comments about his physique and hair. Cursed be Maferath, Jim was playing a hotter Cullen than Cullen himself, he realized. Who knew what effect he’d have over Evelyn? The thought of Jim and Evelyn doing anything remotely intimate nauseated him.

 

It was too much.

 

And what if she liked him more as Jim rather than Cullen? Maker knew his life as a Templar had afforded him limited opportunities for romance…or even straightforward sex.

 

He cast the scout a burning glare.

 

“All right, Jim,” he uttered in a threatening tone. “If you want to know the truth, you are going on a date with the Inquisitor tonight. There’s no meeting. It’s a _date_. I am going to leave everything up to you, but let me say this: if you as much as touch a hair on her head, even if she is begging you to, I will make you pay.”

 

Jim nodded gravely.

 

“And when all of this is over, if you even whisper what you know about my rapport with the Inquisitor to anyone, I will make you regret it.”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed.

 

            “So…Let me get this straight: are you and the Inquisitor?...” he wondered, suggestively pumping his fist before him.

 

            “No!” Cullen cried indignantly.

 

            “Then are you trying to?…”

 

            Cullen grew more flustered.

 

            “No!” he yelled again. Faced with Jim’s skeptical expression, he recapitulated. “Maybe!...Yes! Ah, Maker! What a mess! What does it matter? At this point I’ve probably ruined everything,” he complained. “She probably thinks I’m an unworthy fool.”

 

            “Commander, your secret is safe with me,” Jim stated gravely.

 

Cullen took a deep breath and stepped back. As far as he knew, it was true. He’d never caught Jim bragging. All the stories of his sexual exploits were often told by his most delighted and satisfied partners themselves.

 

 _“Word of mouth is the best advertisement_ , _or rather: where he is willing to put his mouth_ …” someone had joked about Jim’s popularity once.

 

            “Oh, and if you run into Sister Leliana, you should know that she knows,” Jim nervously added.

 

            “How did she—?” he began, but quickly fell silent when he realized that Jim’s behavior would have set off all sorts of alarms. “She _would_ have suspected something,” he conceded.

 

            “I would like to ask you, Commander, since you have made some demands of me, that you heed my only request and make an effort _not_ to run into Sister Leliana,” he asked, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt.

 

Cullen balked.

 

            “Why not? If she knows, then I can talk freely to her about—”

 

            “Please, Commander!” he insisted determinedly, an intensity emerging in the scout’s eyes that Cullen had never witnessed before. “Stay away from Sister Leliana!”

           

Cullen crossed his arms.

 

 _Curious_.

 

            “Jim…Do you by any chance harbor any interest in Sister Leliana?” he asked.

 

Jim pressed his lips together tightly.

 

            “Just promise me, Commander, that you will not touch a hair on her head—and that extends to her hood also, because sometimes she goes around wearing her hood up with her hair tucked away—it looks so very badass,” he began to grin, remembering.

 

            “Very well, very well,” Cullen offered in an appeasing manner. “We have reached an understanding. I will leave Leliana alone and you won’t touch Evelyn.”

 

Jim stared and then nodded, satisfied.

 

            “Let’s shake on it then,” Cullen proposed, extending his hand. Jim took it, gripping it firmly.

 

A deal had been struck.


	7. Now or Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jim confirms our suspicions that he should not be left unsupervised with the good china, the Inquisitor has no game, and decisions must be made. Not featured: Morrigan flicking her fingers under the table at The Herald's Rest, causing Maryden's lute strings to break. There are only so many times one can hear "Oh Grey Warden."

At the appointed hour, Jim was ushered up a tower. He gaped in wonder as he ascended the steps leading to a terrace outfitted with an intimate table for two. Although the wind howled beyond the terrace, the first warnings of yet another impending blizzard, the terrace area remained protected and dry…and to his surprise, even warm. As he was escorted to his seat, he glimpsed over the parapet, noticing how the snow faded down the mountain into the gaping darkness below. When he reached his hands over the edge, his fingertips streaked the air itself, leaving a shimmering trail in their wake, resembling a smudged painting, before clearing up again. Jim waited patiently, occasionally poking at what appeared to be some kind of magical barrier around him and sipping water from the crystal goblet placed in front of his table setting. Another surveying glance of his surroundings revealed lush vines heavy with scarlet rose blooms snaking up the stone walls beside the table. He felt as if he were sitting in a summery villa somewhere else other than on top of a frozen peak in the Frostbacks.

 

            “Do you like it?” a feminine voice inquired.

 

He was startled out of his daze, just as he prodded one of the roses to verify whether or not it, too, was the product of a clever spell.

 

            “It’s amazing,” he admitted.

 

            “It’s a spell. Not all of my spells are offensive or destructive, you see,” Evelyn grinned, her eyes coyly downcast as she approached the table.

 

He rose from his seat a beat too late as she pulled out her own chair, taking her seat before him.

 

            _I am out of practice with this courting stuff,_ he scolded himself upon missing the opportunity to exhibit some prime Commander Cullen gallantry. _When’s the last time I went out with a woman and it didn’t end up in sex within the first ten minutes?_

* * *

 

It seemed like Cullen had enjoyed at least one aspect of her sheltering spell, Evelyn noted, trying not to stare bemusedly at all the finger pokes slowly dissolving overhead.

 

She had worried all afternoon that Cullen would, as he usually did, make their dinner engagement into yet another work or Chantry-related meeting. He tended to show up for their attempted dates in his armor and they always ended up talking about the latest away missions. That evening she was feeling particularly disheartened thanks to the odd conversation with the scout earlier in the day—what had he sought to reassure her about? That she was an _esteemed_ _friend_?

 

Would one use such tepid words as the scout had to express any inkling of deep emotion? Yearning? Desire?

 

She had come close to scrapping the dinner and had been dreading the whole elaborate affair she’d planned that evening, tired of chasing him if, in fact, he wasn’t disposed to thinking of her in any romantic terms. But once she stepped onto the terrace, she noticed that for once he was not in armor. That alone gave her a modicum of hope. He was dressed in fine clothes—a simple, but well-tailored black doublet over a white shirt, and a flattering pair of dark trousers.

 

            _He left his hair a little messy, too_ … _and just a bit of stubble on his handsome face,_ she noticed, pleased.

 

That was definitely promising. More promising than any of their previous attempts.

 

She would do her best to hint at her feelings.

* * *

 

 

            “How are you?” Evelyn asked, folding her napkin over her lap.

 

            “Great!” he nodded.

 

            “The concussion?” she asked with concern.

 

            “Oh!” Jim pat his head nervously. He’d almost forgotten. “It still hurts. A bit. Sometimes.”

 

            He’d been on enough missions with Harding staking out safe areas for their away camps to have seen the Inquisitor in person many times. He had always found her intimidating, very serious in her armor, with the mark so prominently displayed over the palm of her hand. He had often thought of her like one would think of a fabled character in a storybook.

 

But right then, as she sat so close, attired in a lovely crimson dress, with her hair elegantly done in an elaborate braid, he thought she was stunning. He encouraged her to talk as they dined together, asking her questions Commander Cullen probably already knew the answers to under the pretense that his memory was still foggy from his concussion. She was charming and, best of all: he could tell she was totally attracted to him.

 

            _No! Not to me! To Commander Cullen!_ he corrected himself quickly.

 

All the telltale signs were there: the way she toyed with her hair, the demure looks that lingered when she thought he wasn’t looking, shy grins, how her body was leaning towards him…

 

            _Andraste’s knickers_ , _Commander Cullen…what have you been waiting for?_

 

As far as he could tell, and he’d become very skilled at picking up on such nuances, the Inquisitor was practically throwing herself at him. He bit down on his lip as he raised his goblet of wine. If he weren’t already so into Sister Leliana... Commander Cullen was a lucky man, he thought, taking in her flirtatious behavior with an experienced eye.

 

            _Yeah. She is putting it all out there_ …he realized with satisfaction. But even so, he surmised that her coquettishness was still somewhat reserved.

 

            _She’s a mage._   _Probably not used to this whole courting thing. She’s waiting for the Commander to make all the moves, I guess..._

 

            He slapped his own forehead at the subsequent realization.

 

            … _And he’s a frickin’ Templar! No wonder these two can’t get their act together!_

 

            “Cullen?” she asked.

 

He must have appeared distracted for a moment, sitting there with his hand splayed over his forehead.

 

            “Uh…sorry,” he stated sheepishly.

 

            “I’m boring you now, aren’t I?” she lamented, wincing.

 

            “No!” he interjected. “Not at all! Tell me some more about your teacher at Ostwick: Master Horncastle—"

 

            " _Thorn_ castle," she corrected him dryly.

 

            She dabbed at her lips with the napkin.

 

            “I’m sorry, Cullen. I just went off babbling about myself…”

 

            “I was enjoying it: really!” he tried to reassure her.

 

She offered him a wan smile before sighing with resignation.

 

            “Well, what do you wish to discuss next? Is there anything regarding the missions we examined this morning that you’d like to go over?” she stated aloofly.

 

Jim’s eyes widened. What the fuck had just happened?

 

            “If you’d like, once dinner is over, we can review the withdrawal operations in the Wilds,” she announced in a more professional manner. “I have some suggestions regarding our alliance with the nobles in the region: we should offer them assistance in rebuilding and securing estates in exchange for using their land, upon which we can stage our military operations—”

 

She was obviously upset… and frustrated.

 

He took in the lavish surroundings she had arranged on more: the spell that protected them from the storm, the lovely vines laden with fragrant flowers, the cozy table, the dinner itself…She had been so thoughtful regarding every detail that evening, down to how alluringly she was dressed. He had the impression that the whole evening had been plotted as one gigantic hint, one last pitch…and apparently Commander Cullen had just blown it for the last time.

 

            _What do I do? What do I do?_ he panicked.

 

If he were _really_ Cullen, he would simply lean forward, gently cup her face, and kiss her right there, against the blooming vines. It would be as simple as that—she was aching so much for a sign from him. But he couldn’t do that, for so many reasons, the least of them not being that Cullen would simply obliterate him from Thedas in a blaze of blind rage with his bare hands if he attempted such a maneuver.

           

            “Of course, I am presuming. For all I know, you may be needed elsewhere and have to leave right after dinner,” she stated in a strained tone. “In that case, we can just continue this discussion tomorrow during the meeting. What do you say?”

 

She offered him an expectant glance, still undecided between indignation or hurt.

 

He gulped.

 

He had to act. And he had to act fast, before all was lost.

 

It was now or never.


	8. The Call of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jim must decide on the best way to honor his promise to his superior officer and Commander Cullen stars in a laundry commercial that is NSFW. Not featured: Morrigan sneaking into the room with the Eluvian, establishing a connection with Aedan Cousland through the mirror, and proceeding to get him all riled up and horny by flashing him her boobs, only to then leave him hanging as she pretends the bewitched mirror's connection has simply crapped out. This is her idea of 'foreplay.' Aedan would beg to differ, but he secretly loves it.

            _Forgive me, Commander Cullen._

           _I’m doing this for you_.

 

Jim took a deep breath.

 

            “Evelyn,” he began, lifting his glass of wine once again with studied aplomb. He’d already savored a few glasses and was hoping that would bolster the courage to help his plan gain momentum. “Do you have _any_ idea why I was so distracted just now?” he asked casually, gazing into her eyes.

 

            She hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden suave composure.

 

            “No.”

 

He glanced around the terrace quickly to ensure that none of the busybody servants who had been waiting on them during the dinner’s main courses were still lingering about. Satisfied they were alone, he dragged his chair next to hers and leaned closer, a roguish expression on his face.

 

            “Forgive me if I seem too bold; this might just be the concussion that’s making me talk so freely, ” he began charmingly. “The truth is, I was imagining what it would be like to kiss you right now,” he revealed in a low voice.

 

He observed her, trying not to betray his nervousness.

 

She sat back in her chair unable to disguise her stupefaction.

 

            “You look stunning tonight. I can’t think of anything else when I look at those lips of yours,” he added.

 

She blinked slowly, examining him with her bright hazel eyes.

 

            “This…This is all rather unexpected, Cullen,” she said in disbelief.

 

            “Unexpected?” he cocked his head to the side, a half grin emerging on his lips. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he purred, leaning in until he was face to face with her. “I think you know exactly what you are doing…” He let his gaze drop and linger brazenly over her graceful neck and modest décolletage.

 

            “It’s a shame I can’t act on everything I am thinking about right now.”

 

Her face became flushed.

 

            “Why not?” she asked weakly.

 

            “Because…I was forbidden…By the healer! The concussion! I am under strict orders,” he improvised. _Strict orders from Commander Cullen…_ “I’m unable to engage in any physical activity,” he explained. “Under pain of…um…more pain!”

 

            “Oh,” she stated, disappointed. “I see.”

 

_Come on! I was doing so well! I’ve gotta reassure her…Give her something!_

 

            “But…” he resumed quickly, “as soon as the healer sees me tomorrow, I won’t be holding back anymore, Evelyn…”

 

Her eyes held his hesitantly.

 

            “You smell so good,” he whispered in her ear.

 

She remained still, sitting stiffly.

 

            _Keep talking. Open up to her a little._

“Can’t you see what you are doing to me?” he pleaded.

 

He was close enough so that his warm breath tickled her neck.

 

 _I’m not touching her, right? The Commander said 'do not touch', not 'do not breathe_ ,' Jim assured himself.

 

And she _did_ smell very nice.

 

He just couldn’t get why Commander Cullen wasn’t already bedding the lovely Inquisitor.

 

            She startled him by turning her head, her lips tantalizingly close to his.

 

            “Can’t you at least offer a hint of what it is that you wish to do to me?” she protested sweetly.

 

Jim pondered this carefully. Very carefully.

 

He could argue it was necessary in order to prolong the ruse successfully…But he was also quite sure, from the way she was flushed, from the intensity of those hooded eyes beckoning him that he would hardly be able to stop at a simple kiss.

 

            “Don’t tempt me,” he chided her. “Because it would set me back… And Maker knows I don’t want to have to hold back much longer,” he revealed.

 

Now that had been the most honest thing he’d said all night, he concluded.

 

            “Cullen, this is cruel!” she objected. “I can’t help feeling that you are toying with my affections!”

 

            “You have no idea,” he sighed, unable to tear his gaze away from those sweet, pouting lips. “This is so very cruel…But tomorrow…” he paused, a wolfish look in his eyes, “I expect to be claiming your… affections…Every little bit…”

 

She gasped, a look of surprise and delight flashing across her face.

 

            “When?” she pressed him.

 

            “As soon as the healer gives me the ‘all clear.’ Then,” he began, his eyes darkening lustily as he contemplated her, “I promise, you best ready yourself.”

 

            “For what?” she teased,

 

            “For me.”

 

            “To do what?” she provoked coquettishly, feigning innocence.

 

            “To talk about tactical maneuvers in the Arbor Wilds,” he deadpanned.

 

She was not amused. Her brow furrowed and she tried to stand up.

 

Jim’s arms flew down to the sides of the chair, trapping her to her seat. He hadn’t been able to resist provoking her just a little bit. She was just so adorable…so naïve…It just added a little spice to the seduction.

 

            “Wait!” he begged. “Don’t …I was just joking…The truth is…” He inhaled deeply. “I’m afraid that if I tell you what I really want, you will turn me away.”

 

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

 

            “I think you are a lot of talk, Cullen.”

 

He contemplated her with an utterly serious face.

 

“Have you ever known me not to follow through with my promises?”

 

That’s one thing he could be sure about with the Commander—he was a man of his word.

 

“And what is it that you are promising me?” she challenged him.

 

“Anything you desire,” he stated with a disarming glance filled with longing. “Your every whim is my command: I’m in love with you, Evelyn. Can’t you see it? I have been for a long time.”

 

That was fairly obvious, he’d gathered.

 

Her expression softened and she finally offered him the most radiant smile.

 

            “Cullen!”

 

She sought to grip his hands in her warm, slender ones. He flinched from her touch.

 

            “Don’t!”

 

            “You won’t even hold my hand?”

 

It pained him to see her so crestfallen.

 

            “If I hold your hand, I won’t be content: I’ll want to kiss your lips, and if I start kissing you, I won’t want to stop at your lips…”

 

            “Oh no? What else could that lead to?” she murmured alluringly.

 

He breathed an inward sigh of relief.

 

_You little minx._

 

            “I’d pull you up against me…”

 

She stared expectantly.

 

 _Careful_ , he warned himself. _I don’t want to scare her. Commander Cullen won’t be happy with me if the Inquisitor greets him tomorrow with a fire bolt to the pants._

 

            He examined her dazed expression.

 

            “Should I stop…or do you wish me to go on?”

 

            “Go on,” she demanded.

 

            “Even though what I am going to say next is hardly polite or proper?” he insinuated, raising an eyebrow.

 

She squirmed in her chair.

 

Damn, even though he was role-playing, he found himself getting hornier because of her reactions to his words. The look she gave him next ignited his desire further—it was filled with want.

 

            “What were you going to say?” she whispered.

 

            “That I want to pull that dress down,” he stated in a raspy voice, staring at her pert breasts beneath the dark red gown. Her breath hitched, and he took it as a cue to proceed. “I know you’d like me to do that.” He could see her nipples hardening beneath the light fabric. “I can tell,” he grinned, staring openly.

 

            “You can?” she asked nervously, peering down at herself.

 

            “Mm,” he noted appreciatively. He leaned in close again. “And it’s driving me crazy,” he murmured.

 

She offered him the most deliciously helpless gaze. His words were having the desired effect.

 

            “I want to kiss them…Caress them…” he inhaled longingly.

 

            “And then?” she urged him on in a wisp of a voice.

 

He let out a low, knowing chuckle.

 

              “Should I tell you?”

 

She nodded, mesmerized by the sensations his words were awakening in her.

 

             “I would take that dress off completely…”

 

            “What? Here?” she wondered, looking around in a slight daze .

 

            “Yes. Right here. Up against this wall,” he indicated the rose-covered vines.

 

            “Oh,” she acknowledged faintly. “And then?”

 

            “Tell me: are you wearing anything beneath that skirt?” he wondered.

 

            “Of course I am!” she gasped.

 

            “Then I’d have to yank it off,” he grinned. “It would just be in my way,” he whispered.

 

            She turned her head away bashfully.

 

            “Should I stop?” he asked quickly. “Was that too much?”

 

            _Is there a bolt aiming for my crotch yet?_

 

            “I…don’t know…” she stammered. “Go on,” she finally asked him.

 

            “There one thing you must do for me tomorrow,” he declared.

 

She turned to face him again.

 

            “When we're alone once more, I want you to wear that dress again.” He nodded at her. “And nothing else,” he murmured.

 

            “Cullen!” she stated with breathless delight.

 

            “No?” he asked, feigning confusion.

 

            “Keep talking,” she begged.

 

            “I want nothing between you and me when I raise the hem of that dress: just you, naked, ready,” he continued headily. “Evelyn, you have no idea what the mere thought of that is doing to me…” he groaned longingly.

 

He chanced a glance at her and noticed her eyes darting towards the erection he was discreetly trying to conceal by shifting his position on the chair. The air between them was so charged that if a servant were to walk in with a flambéed dessert, he suspected the terrace would ignite in flames. He had grown as flushed as she, both their breaths quickening.

 

            “And then?...” she dared.

 

He was careful to utter the next words softly into her ear, for her alone.

 

            “I am going to slide my fingers between your legs.” She squirmed again in the chair, his proximity tempting her. “And slip my fingers over your clit, up and down very slowly…Would you like that? I bet you are so soft to touch there,”

 

She shivered.

 

             “And then, do you know what I would do?” She was too flustered to answer. He appraised the tightly crossed legs beneath that flowing skirt. “I want to taste you on my tongue,” he revealed.

 

            She let out a tremulous sigh. Her eyes were glistening, feverish with desire, he could see.

 

 _Commander Cullen…dear Maker. What have you done to this poor woman? You’ve made her wait too long!_ he chuckled to himself.

 

            “More?” he provoked.

 

He finally decided to stop trying to hide his erection and let her stare at it covetously.

 

She nodded coyly.

 

            “Very well then…Now you tell me: what do you want me to do to you?…”

 

She glanced up at him, shocked.

 

            “What?” Jim protested, growing bolder at her evident arousal. “Come on, Evelyn. I can’t possibly be the only one here who has been harboring all these dirty thoughts!” he complained. “You need to tell me what you want…”

 

She cleared her throat and looked around uncomfortably.

 

            “I—I can’t…”

 

            “Sure you can. Don’t tell me you haven’t lain in bed at night thinking about me?” he urged her, barely stopping himself from seizing her hand and placing it over his cock. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself? Do you get wet?...” he insinuated.

 

            “I…I would want to…to…kiss you,” she began, flustered.

 

 _She is slaying me!_ he grinned as she lowered her eyes and bit her lower lip.

 

He tended to prefer his lovers on the more experienced side, but there was something so sweet and tender about a shy, inexperienced lover.

 

            “And…I want to taste myself on your tongue…” she added sultrily.

 

Now Jim was the one squirming in his chair, the revelation sending a jolt of excitement through him.

 

 _Naughty Inquisitor!_ He knew she had it in her, he thought triumphantly.

 

            “You will have to alleviate my… discomfort… at that point,” he hinted suggestively, leaning back and parting his legs slightly.

 

Her eyes widened and he saw her hand move towards his obvious bulge. He halted her in time.

 

            _What the fuck am I doing?_ he chastised himself.

 

            “Tell me, instead,” he countered.

 

            “I…I don’t know!” she panicked. “This is all…I feel… dizzy!” she claimed, placing her hand at the base of her neck.

 

            He was finding it increasingly difficult not to give in to the surge of lust that was threatening to overcome him and stifle his very restrained and disciplined compromise of seducing the Inquisitor for the Commander verbally.

 

            “Evelyn,” he stated, both their breaths growing ragged. He knew he had to beat a hasty retreat or he would be following through on everything he had talked about. “I need to leave now before I lose all control,” he told her earnestly. “But: I want you to remember _everything_ we said tonight and be ready for me tomorrow…”

 

            “What?” she widened her eyes. “You can’t just go!”

 

            “I have to,” he growled, standing and heading towards the door.

 

            She cast him a pained expression.

 

            “How can you just leave me like this!” she protested.

 

            _Don’t I know it_ , he lamented. _It is downright criminal!_

 

            “Listen…” he said, turning his head over his shoulder, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes.

 

            “What?” she puzzled.

 

            “Don’t try to… alleviate this on your own…Do you understand what I’m saying?” She stared back in shock. “Don’t you dare touch yourself in my absence,” he commanded her. “Save it for me.”

 

She blushed even harder.

 

            “ I am going to be the one to make you come, do you understand?” he warned her seriously.

 

She nodded slowly, as if entranced.

 

            “Promise me the same,” she dared him.

 

            “Oh, trust me,” he exhaled. “I’m headed to the nearest snow bank right now.”

 

Just before he left the terrace, though, he tapped the wall as he remembered something and stepped back.

 

            “Oh, and if I seem a bit confused tomorrow…Will you kindly refresh my memory?” he grinned enticingly. “I do not know what effects the cure for this will have upon me…but I trust you to follow through with our plans?”

 

She nodded once more.

 

 _Yes_! he congratulated himself, fleeing the terrace. _Mission accomplished!_

 

* * *

 

 

Jim’s corner of the room was sparkling, Cullen noted, pleased. He’d washed and scrubbed his berth down, beat the mattress, carried his linens and dirty clothes to the laundry, and organized all his belongings in his half of the dresser. His roommates looked up in stupefaction at their determined friend, unrecognizable in his quest for neatness and order. Next, he’d taken himself to the barber, trimmed his hair to a respectable length, shaven, and bathed.

 

The truth was that he desperately needed to keep himself busy to keep his mind from wandering to useless thoughts of what Jim and Evelyn might be up to.

 

            Evelyn was very lovely, he knew. Difficult to resist. If he kept pondering all the what-ifs, he’d begin to get angry and restless. If he kept thinking about how beautiful and delightful Evelyn was, how much he wished he was by her side that evening, how he hoped he’d been the one there so he could attempt a bolder move—perhaps even succeed in stealing a kiss!— then he would feel despondent…and agitated.

 

To make matters worse, he’d been accosted by one of the laundresses earlier.

 

            “Jim!” the buxom brunette had cheered as he emerged into the laundry room at Skyhold with a bundle of soiled linens and clothes. “Will you need those… firmly pressed?” she teased, smiling meaningfully.

 

            “Uh…just washed and folded,” he added apprehensively.

 

            “Sure you don’t want to go into the back room and help me sort through these?”

 

            “Do you need me to?” Cullen stammered.

 

He had no idea how this laundry business worked for his men. All the belongings he left by his office’s door were magically whisked away and returned neatly folded a couple days later.

 

            “I do love it when you sort through…delicates,” she giggled, winking. “You certainly know how to handle them…” she added with a lusty grin.

 

_Good Maker, Jim. I don’t know how you have time to do all of Skyhold like this! No wonder you are always dragging yourself through drills._

 

            “Maybe during another wash load—I have a concussion,” he apologized, tapping his head.

 

            “Such a shame,” she stated flirtatiously, leaning her full bosom over the washboard, the damp cotton of her shirt revealing the hardened tip of a temptingly rosy nipple.

 

            Cullen dashed out frantically. Maybe his roommates wouldn’t mind if he cleaned their sections of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

            Jim didn’t bother fastening his cloak over his shoulders. The walk in the frigid night was doing him all sorts of good. He’d desperately wanted to scramble up the stairs of the rookery once he left the Inquisitor. Maybe if he blindfolded Leliana, it wouldn’t matter that he was in Cullen’s body…but he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t stand the thought of watching her take pleasure in his touch…or his dick… while he was in the Commander’s body.

 

            _Why should it matter?_ he grumbled at himself—he’d always been in it for the fun, novelty, adventure…for the sheer joy of it. His affairs tended to just fizzle out or never go much farther beyond the physical. When he thought of Leliana, though, it wasn’t just that she excited him…All kinds of tender and affectionate feelings overcame him: he just wanted to be with her, hold, take care of, and protect her…

 

 _Not that she needs protecting_ , he reasoned, _because she can easily kick my ass any day of the week…_

 

The truth was that he didn’t like imagining someday not seeing her, not spending time with her anymore. There were rumors she would become the next Divine and he dreaded the day he would be ordered to one corner of Thedas and she another.

 

            _I don’t even want to think about it_ , he realized glumly.

 

            “What’s wrong with me?” he agonized.

 

He stormed back to the Commander’s quarters and, slamming the door behind him, morosely climbed the ladder to his bedroom before collapsing over the bed, boots and all.

 

            _What a weird-ass day_ , he thought, staring at the ceiling. _I wonder if the witch lady is being honest with us. What if she’s yanking our chains and we’re stuck forever in these bodies_ , he thought, suddenly alarmed.

 

            It was all so wrong, so unjust. It was the longest he'd gone without sex in a miserable while.

 

            _When I think of oral sex, what happened tonight wasn't necessarily what I had in mind_ , he groaned.


	9. Everything Where It Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Cullen might want to get a referral for OCD, Jim learns that less is more, and fingerling potatoes are delicious. Not featured: Morrigan filling out an interlibrary loan request form for "The Thedas Compendium of Sexually Deviant Behavior" by Brother O.B. Hayve under Viviene's name. There is no such book. The author's name was Dorian's idea.

            Morning found Cullen lying across the bed. He raised his head groggily and bemoaned the state of his bedroom.

 

            _But I just tidied everything_ …he lamented. _Why are these slobs determined to break my spirit?_

 

It took him a few moments to realize that the mess in question was his own armor and clothes strewn across his bedroom floor.

 

His _actual_ bedroom.

 

The one without the roommates and the dreadful pile of dirty clothes.

 

He raised his hands to his face, incredulous, and pat down his features, his hair, and felt his own body, everything familiar and where it belonged.

 

He sat upright with renewed alertness and stared at the dresser mirror.

 

For a second he was assailed by trepidation at the possibility it would be Jim’s face staring back…but it was his own face peering at him.

 

            “Praised be the Maker!” he cried out.

 

The nightmare was over. He stepped out of his bed. He’d never felt so grateful to be exactly where he was, exactly who he was.

 

* * *

 

 

            Jim snorted loudly before the pillow from the top bunk flew down over his face.

 

            “Fuck you and shut the fuck up!” Rory complained sleepily.

 

Jim blinked, disoriented, at the wooden bed slats overhead.

 

            _Where am I?_ he yawned. He glanced around with bleary eyes and noticed his roommates occupying the opposite berths.

 

            _It was all just a bad dream!_ he concluded dazedly, before hugging his pillow and smacking his lips. _Back to sleep_ , he ordered himself. _What a crazy ass dream!_ he chuckled as he drifted off: he couldn’t wait to tell the guys about it—he’d been in Commander Cullen’s body and had talked super dirty to the Inquisitor.

 

 _That’s what I get for having spiced druffalo wings before bed_ , he reasoned.

* * *

 

 

            Cullen stared hard at his reflection, the razor held halfway to his face. He’d just shaved off the encroaching stubble and was now staring at his hair.

 

            _Yes, two days worth of stubble is unacceptable_ , he decided, rubbing his hand over his smooth cheek. But could Jim have been onto something with the hair? He turned his head to and fro while contemplating his reflection. There was something to that new image—something he’d struggled to articulate on his own but hadn’t known how: that he wasn’t as uptight or as rigid as made out to be. He crossed his arms and turned his head. _Not bad, not bad…_

 

            After all, he wanted Evelyn to know he could be spontaneous and fun, that there was an abomination-may-care aspect to him. That he wasn’t so stuffy. Or predictable. Or unemotional and finicky.

 

 _But Maker, Jim has to come back and clean up this mess_ , he decided, raising an eyebrow and contemplating the rumpled clothes on the floor around his room.

 

Besides, they needed to have a little talk…

 

* * *

 

 

The knock startled them all out of bed.

 

            “What the hell!” Rory muttered from the bunk above. “The call to rise hasn’t even been sounded yet.”

 

Groans and complaints were tossed around until Clairmont finally staggered out of bed and hobbled towards the door. The next words out of his mouth had the other three roommates sitting up in their berths immediately.

 

            “Commander Cullen!” he gulped.

 

            “At ease, men!” the Commander announced. He peered in and found Jim sitting on the edge of his bunk. “Private Jim, get ready as soon as possible and report back to my quarters. I need you to tidy up the chaos you left in my bedroom. You threw all my clothes on the floor and left the bed a mess,” he accused testily.

 

All the roommates turned their heads simultaneously to stare wild-eyed at Jim.

 

 _Erm…What are the chances that statement won’t be misinterpreted and gossiped about?_ Cullen pressed his lips together. _Riiight: none_ , he rubbed his neck with annoyance.

 

Jim was quick to fix the situation, though.

 

            “Sorry, Commander. I hope you’ll trust me to deliver your laundry again…I’ve been dealing with this nasty concussion…Right, guys?”

 

The other three immediately nodded and agreed.

 

            “It’s true, Commander. He’s been practically unrecognizable.”

 

            “Acting like a total prick.”

 

            “Room does smell nice, though,” his roommate Horace offered.

 

            “Are you feeling better, private?” Cullen asked. It was a sincere question.

 

            “Much better. All better, in fact,” he grinned.

 

Cullen grinned slightly, too.

 

            “Report to my quarters. I have a cleaning detail for you,” he stated, before turning on his heels and walking away.

 

The moment the door slammed shut the other three began to snicker and chuckle. Jim scrunched his face at them in confusion.

 

            “What?”

 

            Rory pointed at his pants.

 

            “Yep. Back to normal.”

 

Jim peered down groggily and saw what was causing the ruckus: his morning erection.

 

            “Ah, shut up, you assholes!”

 

            “Nice to have you back, now cover that thing the fuck up,” Rory quipped, hopping back into his bunk.

 

Jim bantered a bit with the others, who were teasing him, but in reality, he really didn’t mind. Being back in his own body was wonderful. All was right.

 

 _Hi friend! I’ve missed you_ , he beamed, staring down at himself.

 

* * *

 

  

           “Then you put them in the drawer by _color_ ,” Cullen explained, arms crossed as he supervised Jim collect everything off the ground and begin the painstaking process of sorting and folding.

 

            “Yes, Commander,” he dutifully replied.

 

            “And then the boots have to be placed back on the rack by the ladder.”

 

            “Yes, Commander,” he acknowledged, eyeing the boots he’d tossed around the floor while trying to decide on what to wear the previous day.

 

            “I’m glad this is all over,” Cullen stated.

 

            “I noticed you gave me a haircut, Commander,” Jim told him looking up.

 

Cullen furrowed his brow.

 

            “Well, yes. Your hair…was growing a bit unruly…It was just a trim.”

 

At Jim’s silence, Cullen cleared his throat.

 

            “It looks better this way…and it’ll grow back…and…and I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds…I was not in a good state of mind,” he apologized.

 

            “Our barracks look nice and clean,” Jim offered consolingly. He figured he’d make nice. He would have to tell him eventually about Evelyn.

 

 _Oooooor…maybe it should be a surprise!_ Jim snickered quietly as he shelved several grey tunics by color gradation.

 

           “Seems like there is no harm done…No lingering after effects,” Cullen surmised, relief apparent in his voice. “We can now go back to normal, thank goodness.”

 

           “About that, Commander…” Jim began cautiously.

 

           “Yes? Anything I should be aware of before I see the Inquisitor?” he wondered. “How did things go last night with her? I trust you behaved as ordered?” Cullen observed the private’s face expectantly.

 

           “I didn’t touch a hair on her head.”

 

           “So then… Dinner went well? You kept the conversation light and entertaining?” he wondered.

 

          “Oh, yes. It was definitely entertaining.” He bit his lower lip.

 

         “Good,” Cullen smiled, leaning against his dresser. “But then I shouldn’t have worried despite the fact that women seem to find you irresistible! Honestly, Jim! I thought the others were joking when they talked about how popular you are with the ladies here at Skyhold! What’s your secret, man?” he teased jovially.

 

Jim paused pensively.

 

          “I…I don’t know. We have a good time… I’ve been told I am attentive…a good listener… I pick up on what my partners like. Then, there’s also the fact women often tell me how I am hung like a druff—”

 

         “Yes, yes…No need to elaborate!” Cullen quickly interrupted, sorry he’d brought the whole thing up. “Anyway, they obviously like and trust you…I was accosted quite a few times and had to turn them down! I hope they don’t begrudge you later on!” he marveled, with a twinge of envy. If only he could muster so much confidence in such matters.

 

Jim sighed.

 

        “I’m afraid those days might be over. I hope they don’t hold it against me either…I’ve really been focusing my attention on one partner only lately,” he admitted. “I’m worried that something is wrong with me,” he confessed worriedly. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

 

       “Hmm…” Cullen mused mirthfully. “Sounds serious.”

 

       “I don’t know,” Jim shrugged. “It’s just that Leli—I mean, this one woman, she is always on my mind. She’s amazing. Just…Wow. In every way, Commander.” He grinned dazedly just thinking of her.

 

Cullen nodded sympathetically.

 

       “I think I know the feeling…”

 

      “Yeah…” Jim said skittishly, remembering his conversation with the Inquisitor. “I’m glad…Because…Um…I may have told the Inquisitor last night that I…or actually, YOU, Commander—are in love with her.”

 

Cullen grasped the edge of the dresser with a death grip, an expression of sheer panic over his features.

 

     “You did what?”

 

_Yeah. Not good. He’s pissed._

 

     “I told her that you were in love with her, Ser.”

 

     “Oh, Maker,” he said, growing pale.

 

     “I think she was into it,” Jim quickly added.

 

     “Jim…what have you done?” Cullen agonized, raising his hands to his temples.

 

Jim winced.

 

     “We’re even now? For the haircut?...” he joked weakly.

 

     “That’s too much! That’s going too fast!” he groaned.

 

 _Wow. So I guess telling him I ordered her not wear any small clothes or touch herself is a no-go_ , he concluded, trying to look natural.

 

     “Actually, Commander?” he began. “I think that if I hadn’t said anything, she would have given up on you.”

 

He turned to the Private abruptly.

 

      “What are you talking about?” he snapped. “How in the world could you possibly come up with—”

 

      “She looked lovely last night,” Jim said gently. “She cast a spell on the terrace and set up a sheltered area in the middle of a snowstorm. There were flowers cascading all around us and it was warm. She had this incredible meal served—I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to mess hall food after that,” he cracked a grin. “It was something really delicious, too—some roast made Fereldan style…And these little fingerthing—no, _fingerling—_ potatoes…”

 

Cullen’s mouth was agape.

 

     “Those are all my favorites!” he stated.

 

She had made sure everything he liked had been served. She had gone to all that trouble to have his favorite meal for him, he realized tenderly. He’d told her a while ago what his favorite dish was, when they’d been chatting about what they missed most about life before the Mage-Templar conflict and what they looked forward to enjoying again once the battle with Corypheus had ended.

 

     “She wore a very pretty dress and had her hair up all fancy-like,” Jim explained less-than-eloquently, wiggling his fingers in the air.

 

_A dress! She hates dresses! She refuses to wear them, even at formal functions. What had possessed her?…_

 

     “A red dress,” Jim completed.

 

Red was his _favorite_ color!

 

     “I was very polite to her, Commander—I swear! I told her I had a concussion and I listened to her chat about Ostwick, and her Circle, and the whole time she was…” He paused, taking a deep breath for courage. “She was hinting very subtly that she wanted you to make a move.”

 

Cullen furrowed his brow.

 

    “How could you tell?” he finally asked conspiratorially.

 

    “Oh, she was displaying all the signs of interest! She was…playing with her hair, smiling at everything I said…leaning towards me…”

 

It was perplexing. She always seemed to do that when they were alone, Cullen noted. He just thought it meant she felt comfortable around him, nothing more…

 

    “Commander, she is in love with you. That much is obvious. And if you don’t do anything about it, she’s going to get confused and lose confidence, and think that maybe she understood things incorrectly, and then, if anything, she will start to avoid you, so she can push you out of her life…and not feel hurt anymore because you don’t feel the same way…She’s a mage and these matters of the heart might be strange to her,” he completed boldly.

 

Cullen considered the Private’s words. There was truth and even wisdom to what he was explaining. What _had_ he been waiting for, he wondered? Why was he hesitating? Perhaps those matters of the heart were strange to him, too, he had to admit.

 

    “So, forgive me. I said what I thought you’d say…and what she needed to hear from you. With all due respect.”

 

Cullen stared at the ground, his fist resting over his lips as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

 

    “Tell me something,” he began. “How did she…How did she react to what you said?” he asked.

 

Jim’s lips curled into a grin.

 

    “She surprised in a good way, Commander. She was relieved—she was happy.”

 

Cullen allowed himself to smile faintly.

 

     “She was?” he asked, a surge of hope rising within.

 

      “Yes. Go to her. Go to her now. I said a few other things to her—things about feelings…” It was true, Jim justified to himself. _Horniness is a valid feeling_. “And told her I would only act on them once I’d gotten the healer’s all-clear. Today is that day.”

 

Cullen smiled warmly.

 

    “Thank you, Jim. You ended up being an enormous help.”

 

He took a deep breath and stood up straight.

 

    “I’m going to go see her right now, Private,” he confided. “You’ve brought two hearts together. Thank you,” he stated with a disarming sincerity.

 

 _Uh… Those aren’t the only bits that want to get together_ … Jim panicked.

 

    “I had no idea you could be so persuasive and eloquent,” Cullen continued.

 

Jim gave him his best shit-eating grin as he hurriedly made his way to the ladder and began his descent.

 

    “Oh, and Commander, once you do speak to the Inquisitor, I want to reiterate that I did not act on ANYTHING I said.”

 

    “I know that,” Cullen tipped his head congenially at him. “You’ve proven to be reliable and honorable. Thank you.”

 

Jim was almost down the ladder entirely, only the tip of his head still visible from the opening into the room.

 

     “Also, Commander, one more thing I almost forgot: the Inquisitor is expecting you to…Uh…How do I say this? To have sex with her this morning.”

 

Silence.

 

He gripped the ladder’s rungs tightly, listening for any hint of movement: a gasp, a groan, perhaps the unsheathing of a sword aiming for his skull…

 

Cullen let out an awkward little laugh.

 

     “Sorry, Private. Say that again: I misheard you. I thought you just said the strangest, most improbable thing!”

 

     “Please: just don’t be too, too surprised if she’s like, really, really, happy to see you, and wearing the red dress…and…” his mouth went dry, “nothing else beneath it.”

 

A strangled noise came from the room.

 

_Okay, that’s better. Move, Jim. Time to go._

 

     “Private Jim!” Cullen roared.

 

     “I promised you’d go down on her, too,” he added hastily, hopping down onto the rug and making a dash for the door.

 

    “You said _what_?” Cullen yelled.

 

    “Goodbye, Ser!”

 

The door slammed heavily.

 

Cullen clutched his hands over his head.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Time to lie low for a while_ , Jim decided, crossing the overpass towards the Main Hall. _And I know just where to go!_

 

He entered the tower and took a side stairwell spiraling up past the library and towards the rookery. As he reached the last steps, he found Leliana speaking quietly to two operatives at her desk. He puffed his chest out decisively, and stomped loudly to her side.

 

     “Sister Leliana, I have an urgent report to deliver, but it is private. And might take a while. We must talk _now_ ,” he ordered.

 

She glanced up from her meeting.

 

     “Glad to see you are well, private!” she stated with amusement. “We can talk shortly.” He saw the hint of a grin flash over her pouty lips.

 

     “I have my orders: right now!” he insisted defiantly. He was just dying to kiss every inch of her.

 

     “In about forty minutes,” she frowned warningly, no longer amused.

 

     “In about forty minutes!” he repeated appeasingly.

 

     “Go wait downstairs in the library,” she commanded.

 

     “I’m going to go wait in the library!” he retorted loudly, turning around.

 

Downstairs, he found an empty chair and grumbled at having to wait as people around him read and studied. He huffed with vexation and eyed a pile of books left to be reshelved on a table. The first title he pulled out from the pile was none other than _The Holy Brazier_.

 

 _Oh, fuck me!_ he thought in disbelief.

 

He stared at the leather bound tome.

 

 _Oh, well…Might as well see what happened to those wacky disciples and the ash wraiths,_ he decided, settling back in his chair with the book.


	10. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Cullen wishes he had mastered the art of shut-up and Jim becomes a believer in the power of prayer. Not featured: Aedan Cousland almost getting into fisticuffs with some local rube at a super secret undisclosed location over a discussion on semantics:  
> "I do miss my boy and the missus when we're apart like this... But even I have to admit, during certain days of the month, she literally becomes a dragon."  
> "You mean figuratively."  
> "No, I mean literally."  
> "It really irks me when people have no idea of how to use 'literally.'"  
> "I know the difference! She becomes an actual dragon. LITERALLY! Asshole."

* * *

 

 _Apologize_ , Cullen decided dourly. _Apologize as if your life depended on it._ He could blame it all on the concussion. It could all be salvaged, he tried to calm himself

 _Breathe. You have faced down all kinds of perils and menaces. Clearing a misunderstanding shouldn't discomfit you like this_ , he rallied.

But so much—his own happiness, his tender hopes— hinged on getting that encounter right.

For once.

 _I'm an idiot,_ he fumed. _Why did I trust such a delicate matter to Jim? What did I expect?_

Jim had probably not picked up on the fact she'd been mortified over his indecent proposals.

_Now I have to fix this mess!_

He flushed remembering Jim's mischief.

 _Poor Evelyn!_ She probably thought he was a pervert.

 _And he'd said he'd go down on her!_ _Good Maker preserve me!_ Cullen stumbled back, reeling from the shame. She must have played along just to get rid of him. _No: me!_ he groaned miserably.  _What an absurd thing to say to her!_ he thought angrily, adjusting his mantle and making his way towards the ladder.

And then he imagined it: Evelyn draped across her bed. The red dress hitched all the way up over her hips, her bare thighs parting slowly, an invitation to him…

His hand flew up to cover his mouth.

 _Enough!_ he ordered himself gravely.

_Let me go make amends at once. No more of this nonsense!_

* * *

Sometimes Evelyn went to the War Table earlier, before the morning meeting began, to study the latest requests and problems so she could orchestrate better solutions and proposals. Cullen found her dedication inspiring and moving.

_Evelyn is a kindhearted, dedicated soul._

He ventured down the narrow corridor and noticed with some nervousness that the door had been left slightly ajar: a sure sign she was already there. He halted outside, pondering his chosen course of action, and summoning some courage knocked lightly.

"Come in," she invited.

He stepped inside and ventured no further lest she exhibit discomfort at being in a room alone with him after the previous night.

"Good morning," he stated contritely.

She glanced up and her face immediately turned red.

"Cullen!"

He wasn't sure if it was a rebuke or an exclamation.

"How are you feeling?" she asked concernedly, examining him carefully.

"I'm fine!" he said.

"Oh?" she turned even redder. "The healer…did the healer say you could resume normal activities?" she asked timidly.

"Yes," Cullen replied. He glanced down, contritely.

_Tell her now._

"Evelyn, about last night…"

She smiled broadly.

"I can't stop thinking about it," she stated in a low voice.

They spoke at the same time:

"I apologize."

"I am ready to do everything you asked."

They peered at each other, puzzled.

"What are you apologizing for?" she wondered.

"What did I ask you to do, exactly?" He tensed up.

Just then, Josephine entered the room, her infamous clipboard cradled in her arm.

"Good morning, Inquisitor! Cullen!" she chirped merrily.

Both of them stared at each other, frozen.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Josephine asked self-consciously.

Cullen composed himself.

"Not at all."

"Commander," Evelyn stated calmly, "we can continue this conversation afterwards, back in my quarters," she proposed.

Cullen nodded politely.

"Shall we begin?" Josephine suggested.

"Where are Cassandra and Leliana…Morrigan?" Evelyn asked.

Josephine smirked.

"Well, yesterday's meeting was so effective and we were able to come to resolutions so quickly, there really is no need to have a lengthy meeting today. Cassandra is conducting drills and Leliana is meeting with some operatives who just returned from a mission. I thought maybe we could talk about the border dispute between Orlais and Ferelden? We are hosting the first round of negotiations and the delegates will be heading to Skyhold in a couple days, once the snowstorm clears out…"

Cullen stole a glance at Evelyn. She was facing the ambassador, but her eyes shifted to him.

"Josephine…since there aren't any real pressing matters…can we possibly discuss this tomorrow?" Evelyn requested. "I could use a break."

"I suppose we could…" she pondered, tapping her quill's feather over her cheek. "What about discussing the menu for the dinner with the Councilors from Markham?..."

"I'll trust you to decide," Evelyn stated.

"And your appointment for the fitting of your new uniform this afternoon?"

"Cancel it," she decided. "Keep the rest of my day free."

Josephine pursed her lips.

"Very well, Inquisitor." She scribbled furiously on the parchment. "That's really all we have at the moment. I am sure once the courier is able to make it up the mountain, we will be buried under requests…But right now…" she shrugged. "Enjoy your day off!"

They watched the Ambassador stroll down the hall towards her desk.

"We need to talk," Evelyn stated. "Meet me in my quarters in a little bit," she requested, heading down the hall.

* * *

"Private Jim," Leliana was addressing him, but her eyes were still trained on the departing operatives. "Come in and tell me more about this report of yours."

"There's no report," Jim stated in confusion. "It was just an excuse to—"

"Sssh!" she chided him. She turned her head to make sure the operatives had left and then drew a chain across the top of the stairs, indicating that the rookery was not to be disturbed. Leliana signaled that he should follow her to the other side of the tower.

He followed behind, watching her hips undulate tantalizingly. He couldn't resist and pulled her to him, kissing her neck as he squeezed her backside.

"Private Jim!' she stated crossly, extricating herself from his grasp, "I am not pleased with how you behaved earlier, marching in here, interrupting an official meeting and interfering with Inquisition business," she accused.

He winced, genuinely worried. He'd been too eager and heavy handed.

"I think," she declared, turning to him suggestively, "you need to be punished for such bold behavior!"

She led him into the small back room and locked the door behind her.

 _O-ho! This kind of punishment!_ He grinned.

"I am sorry: I've been terribly bad," he clarified.

"Kneel," she ordered. "And recite the entire Prayer of Penance. Do it properly: reverently," she instructed, standing beside him, her arms crossed. "And when you're done…Start over. Only stop when I tell you to stop."

Needless to say, he was already as horny as a buck. He began to recite the long prayer.

"Close your eyes!" she demanded.

As he declaimed the prayer, her heard her pace around him until everything grew silent and all he could discern was his own voice and some soft rustling. He was halfway through the prayer when he sensed movement again. He startled when her hands began to unfasten his belt and tug at his trousers. Once she successfully unbuttoned the front, she reached for the erection outlined against his trousers and coaxed his throbbing cock out. As she slid her hand up and down his shaft, he began to stammer and shuddered with excitement at the promising caress.

"Don't you dare stop!" she reprimanded him, rubbing the wet tip.

He was doing his best to recall all the damn words, but he was struggling— her touch was driving him crazy. When she placed her smooth lips over his dick, he moaned loudly, with both pleasure and relief.

He snuck a peek down at himself and headily watched her suck him, breaking away to lick his shaft. To his delight, she was already completely naked.

"No fair," he said breathlessly, sweeping her hair away from her cheek. "You know I like to undress you."

She ran her tongue over the tip of his cock before releasing him.

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "I couldn't wait" she shrugged, pushing him down onto the rug and immediately straddling his hips.

Just before she lowered herself over his gleaming dick, she leaned over and whispered,

"I never said you could stop reciting…"

He sighed contentedly.

"I am thankful for all the graces I am about to receive…" he resumed dutifully.


	11. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter with the events that will later make Cullen think that perhaps all happens for a reason and that Morrigan will gladly take all the credit for. Well, maybe not gladly. Smugly.

Cullen did not know what to say when Evelyn opened the door to her quarters in an elegantly tailored red dress.

 _Red. It's the dress she wore last night! Maybe she is giving me a chance to atone for that ill-fated evening_ , Cullen concluded, stepping into the room.

"So?" she asked sultrily, as they reached the landing at the end of the stairwell. She settled in the upholstered settee along the banister. Cullen stood before her, a serious expression on his handsome face.

"I just wanted to let you know, Evelyn, that I hold you in the _highest_ regard, and that I would _never_ behave towards you in an unbecoming way… or a disrespectful way—"

The twinkle in her eyes appeared to fade.

"What are trying to say, Cullen?"

He felt terrible.

"That I am sorry for my forward, uncouth behavior last night," he stated. "Please don't hold it against me. I meant none of it!" he pleaded passionately.

Her mouth opened slightly.

" _None_ of it?" she asked.

"None of the nonsense I uttered, Evelyn! You mustn't believe I am such a scoundrel—"

Her lip quivered slightly.

"So _all_ the things you said?..." she continued, at a loss, distressed.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

What _had_ he said? Or rather, that troublemaker?

She crossed her arms forlornly.

He wasn't picking up on something, he realized apprehensively.

"Actually, Evelyn, I'm afraid I don't quite…" He pointed at his head. "The concussion, you see. My memory is a little…foggy," he tried. "I don't have much recollection of last night."

She sought out his eyes and gazed at him. Her expression was so full of hurt and reproach he felt terrible; he didn't know what to do with himself.

 _I may have told the Inquisitor last night that I…or actually, YOU, Commander—are in love with her,_ Jim's voice came back to haunt him. And what had he just been asserting? That he meant nothing he'd said the previous night…

_Well, I can't let Jim do the honors._

_Courage_.

He sat down on the opposite edge of the settee.

"There is only one thing I would have meant… if it is something I said to you last night," he stated gently. She held his gaze.

"I do love you, Evelyn," he admitted, staring down, unexpected bashfulness overcoming him. "That is the truth…and has been, for a while now," he smiled slightly. "How could I not?" he asked tenderly, raising his eyes.

At that moment, smiling so warmly at him, her eyes bright, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, she took his breath away. He reached for her slender hand and brought it up to his lips.

She squeezed it back, and exhaled with enormous relief.

"I thought all was lost there for a moment," she laughed lightly. "What took you so long, Commander? I almost gave up on you."

His eyes widened.

"You mean?..."

"Yes!" she swatted at his arm playfully. "I love you as well…but couldn't tell if you felt the same way…"

Cullen couldn't contain himself: he leaned forward and kissed her gingerly on the lips. Her eyes remained shut for a moment as he pulled away.

"You know…You could have said something, given me a sign," he teased, brushing a lock of hair off her face. "Why did you wait so long for me to say something?"

She cast him a look filled with censure.

"To be perfectly honest, it wasn't until last night that I began to believe that perhaps I wasn't hallucinating and that you saw me as more than a valued colleague that you…are _fond_ of." She grinned knowingly.

Maker, what had happened? What had Jim said?

"Not that I would scoff at being held in such high esteem," she quickly amended. "It's just that…I hoped…" She blushed deeply and stopped.

He grinned understandingly and edged closer to her on the settee, placing his arm around her comfortingly.

"I know," he hugged her.

"Do you?" she wondered, sliding her arms around him. "You must…The things you said last night…You just put me in a dither."

Feeling her so close against him, so warm and soft in his arms, saying such sweet things to him was awakening all kinds of pleasant sensations throughout his body. He sought her lips for another kiss, but this one was far less innocent than the first one. He found his heart racing, a surge of desire rising within him as his tongue flicked over hers and his hand came dangerously close to brushing over her breasts.

"You know," she continued, "you told me to remind you of what you told me you were going to in case you forgot," she whispered suggestively.

He buried his nose between the side of her neck and her soft hair, inhaling her warm, ambery perfume.

"And what did I say?" he murmured, emboldened by how she was tilting her neck so alluringly.

"You said that first you would pull the front of my dress down…" she whispered.

He halted his kisses to her neck and cleared his throat nervously.

"I _did_?"

She nodded encouragingly. He felt lightheaded.

"Evelyn…are we moving too fast?"

She blinked at him, somewhat bewildered. She was practically throwing herself at him. Where was the bold man who'd said those wonderfully dirty things to her the previous night?...

"Please tell me I don't need to give you another concussion to encourage you to make love to me," she protested. "Unless, of course, you're not interested!" she huffed, sitting back and crossing her arms again.

 _What do I do? What do I do?_ he thought, in a panic.

"Forgive me…this is…so…overwhelming!"

"Overwhelming?" she cried indignantly. " _Cullen Stanton Rutherford_! An intimate moment with the woman you supposedly love can be many things, but _overwhelming_ shouldn't be one of them!"

Well, if there was any doubt in his mind that he was back to normal, that clarified everything: he was back to his old verbal fumbling ways that only complicated matters for him.

"I don't know what to do right now!" he confessed.

He was being earnest as to or not he should pursue her seduction

 _Or is she the one seducing me_? he mused.

"Let me give you a hint!"

Evelyn pursed her lips petulantly, and raising her hands to the front of her dress, began to tug at the top, pulling it open over her breasts. They sprung free from the bodice, without the trace of a binding.

And they had an instant effect on him: the pert pink nipples contrasted sensuously against her fair, pale skin.

 _Very enticingly hard nipples_ , he needed to add. _Maker! What would Jim do?_

And as he contemplated the face of the woman he adored, he felt a strange new confidence spur him onwards.

She examined him for a reaction, her expression almost defiant.

"Well?"

When he turned his light brown eyes to her, she felt a thrill course down her spine.

Without a further word, he yanked her against him, kissing her hungrily, one of his large rough hands, coursing over one of her breasts, palming it with an eager roughness that excited her.

 _Finally_! She inhaled deeply.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, settling against the pillows on the settee, his body covering hers. He'd pushed himself up and began kissing her neck, her collarbone, and hovered over her pebbled nipples before dipping forward and licking the tips. She squirmed beneath him and he sucked harder, rolling his tongue over a nipple, eliciting a faint moan from her.

As enjoyable as their little tryst was on the settee, it was hardly comfortable. He found himself trying to remain steady by keeping one foot planted on the ground. To Evelyn's surprise, he rose from the settee and began to pull off his mantle and tug at his armor. He noticed her eyes were fixed at a point much lower than his chest, and when he glanced downwards, he realized his erection was very noticeable against his dark trousers. Far from being self-conscious, though, he grinned instead, and finished removing his armor and undershirt. He liked the way she was staring at him and biting her lower lip.

_She is so alluringly sweet!_

He swooped down, lifted her effortlessly off the settee and carried her, amidst amused cries, to her bed. Once he deposited her over the covers, he began to remove his belt.

"What else did I tell you I was going to do?" he asked brazenly.

 _Where is this coming from_? he wondered. This was an entirely new side to him—his inhibitions were being replaced by a lusty confidence.

Evelyn actually blushed again.

"I don't think I could…" she stammered. "Just come here." She pat the spot next to her on the bed eagerly. He almost gave in, but he remembered her mysterious words from earlier: _I did as you asked._

"Not until I verify that you did exactly as I asked," he bluffed, crossing his bare, muscular arms over his chest.

Even as she turned a bright crimson, she offered him a saucy grin.

"Oh, but I did."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I will need to verify that claim," he dared.

She sat up, reaching for the hem of her long dress and slowly raised it over her legs. Just like in his little fantasy earlier. He felt his cock twitch impatiently in his trousers, straining against the cloth. He knelt on the bed and tore her hand away.

"I had better check for myself," he feigned impatience.

He raked his fingers over her bare thighs as he pulled the skirt up, until it was resting over her hips.

Just like he'd been told: she was naked from the waist down. Gloriously naked. He stared at the patch of light hair between her legs and lay astride her. He gently caressed her thighs—they were strong, from all her travels on foot and horseback throughout Thedas. He leaned over and kissed her lovingly, his hand sliding upwards, and stroking the small swell of her stomach, tracing the curve of her waist and the rise of her hip, her naked skin warm. He teased her by letting his hand ghost over her thighs, only brushing lightly between her legs, causing her body to tense and her breath to hitch.

She broke away from their kiss breathlessly.

"You are being most ungentlemanly," she pleaded. "It's hardly polite to make a lady wait so long," she pretended to sulk. "Especially because I followed your orders: I didn't even dare to touch myself…" her voice trailed off when she glimpsed the cryptic look on Cullen's face.

 _Jim, you perverted bastard,_ he thought _. First I will kill you just a little bit… and then I will hug and thank you profusely_.

"Did you want to?" he spoke quietly in her ear.

She nodded very hesitantly.

They kissed again, their tongues entwining, their lips clicking wetly against each other. He tossed the bulk of the flouncy skirt to the side.

"What are you doing?" she wondered. But before she could say anything else, her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as she felt his fingertips slip past the patch of hair between her legs. Cullen couldn't believe he was behaving in such an uninhibited way.

 _But if she hasn't stopped or kicked me out by now_ … he surmised.

He kissed her cheek, close to her ear. His fingers grazed her between the legs lightly, a fluttering touch that made her protest with an adorable little whimper. He stroked her clit that way a few more times. She was too enrapt in what he was doing to her to reply. Instead, she gradually slackened her legs, spreading them apart to allow him to move more freely. He ran his fingers up and down, slowly, watching her grow more and more excited, her breath quickening as his fingers slipped inside her.

She was a vision: her beautiful face flushed, her breasts exposed over the undone bodice, her dress hitched over her hips as his hand dipped up and down between her parted thighs, her hips rising slightly to meet his fondling more urgently.

And then he stopped.

Her eyes opened and she cast him an exasperated glance.

"Why did you stop?" she protested, faintly, as he stood.

He could barely string the words together. He realized he was breathless himself. He simply grabbed her legs and pulled her over the covers to the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" she cried, resting on her elbows as she watched him kneel between her thighs. "Cullen, come back here—" But she stopped speaking the moment he brushed the tip of his tongue over her very aroused clit. She gasped and appeared to surrender, spreading her legs further, offering herself completely to the heady thrill of his tongue.

If anyone had told him that before morning was over, he would be pleasuring the Inquisitor like that, he would have…

 _Well, how did I react?_ he thought.

He'd been mortified, horrified…perhaps also aroused somewhere in there, too, but he would have thought it juvenile nonsense. But there he was, lapping her up so intimately, his tongue delicately circling over her only to resume licking her firmly. He kissed her clit between strokes of his tongue, savoring her taste, feeling himself grow more excited over how aroused and flushed she was. He began to tear through the laces in his trousers, his sensitivity heightening as his hand brushed over his hard cock. She lowered her hands and encouragingly ran her fingers through his hair.

"Mm…don't stop, Cullen," she begged breathlessly. She was so unbelievably seductive like that. Who knew the Inquisitor had a wanton side to her demure nature?

 _One could argue the same about me_ , he concluded.

She let out another moan and with a final rapid stroke of his tongue, he pulled away once look he received was far more frustrated.

"What are you doing to me?" she moaned, collapsing back into the bed.

He pulled off his trousers and peeled off his small clothes, letting her gaze greedily at his erection.

"I'm at my limit, Evelyn," he pleaded, climbing over her in the bed. He took himself in hand and spread the wetness that had emerged at the tip of his cock with his thumb. She watched, a hungry expression in her face. He leaned over her, seeking her lips for a kiss, dying to plunge into her, especially as she sucked his tongue, undoubtedly tasting herself on his lips. He commanded himself to maintain control and instead rubbed his shaft between her legs, coating his cock until it was slick with her wetness. He noticed she had stopped kissing him and appeared to focus intently on the sensations building up inside her. She tensed and let out a cry, her eyes shut tightly, her hips grinding against his and it was then that he slid his cock inside her, still feeling her contract and pulse deliciously around him, enveloping him in that warmth. She flung her arms around his neck once more as he thrust at an increasing tempo, his breath ragged, the tightness in his groin growing blissfully unbearable as they kissed ardently. Her hands brushed over his shoulders and coursed down his back, while she kissed his lips, his cheek, his ear. She met his thrusts with her hips. His breath hitched as a burst of ecstasy radiated throughout his body. He was still bucking as the surge of pleasure exploded through him. He buried his face in her neck, his chest heaving. As the sensation gradually subsided, he rolled off slowly to her side, but slipped his arm beneath her, drawing her close to him.

They remained that way for a while, taking in the intensity of their encounter. She rested her head on his shoulder and her fingers skimmed gently over the coarse hair on his chest. He stroked her back and they grinned as they contemplated each other.

"That was amazing," she whispered. _I never imagined he had it in him,_ she thought, blushing delightedly, snuggling into his embrace.

"I do love you," she declared softly in his ear.

They kissed some more, said tender things to each other, engaged in some ridiculously sweet banter about who loved the other more, until they began to drift off into a contented slumber. As Cullen found himself slipping into sleep with the woman who'd caused him to catch his breath from the very beginning, when they first met, he clasped her tighter to himself and rested his chin over her head.

 _Strange_ , he thought. _That was unlike anything I've ever experienced. Not that I am that experienced…I'd often heard that lovemaking is infinitely better when done with one's beloved, but I was so… uninhibited, audacious… I never imagined being capable of behaving that way…It's almost as if…as if_ … his eyes widened as he realized where his thoughts were leading him,

… _As if a little bit of Jim has stayed with me_.


	12. A Clarification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jim demonstrates much insight into human nature, so that if this gig with the Inquisition doesn't pan out, he can put on a jeweled turban and predict futures for fancy ladies in Orlais' salons. It really doesn't take much, according to Morrigan, who says tonight's lucky numbers are 5, 11, and 69.

Jim handed the cup of water to Leliana, lying beside him on the narrow bed.

"Ah," she sighed contentedly. "You were just what I needed!"

Jim smiled, gazing over her lovely figure clad only in a sheet.

"Were you having a rough day?" he wondered, settling back beside her. He turned to face her as he settled his head on the pillow they were sharing.

"Try a rough _decade_ ," she snorted lightly. "I am glad you can meet with me as often as you do…I am fully aware that I am keeping you all to myself and probably causing most of the female population in Skyhold to become quite…frustrated." She winked. "I know I was, when we couldn't rendezvous yesterday…"

Normally he'd laugh, even if such comments struck him right in his heart. He adored the spymaster and felt lucky that she had reciprocated the flirtation that had led to their delightful, furtive times in the rookery. When they had begun, he'd thought just meeting with her occasionally would suffice; but more and more, he found himself pining for her: for her smiles, her charming accented voice, how she told him things about the world. As of late, those lighthearted moments had become as significant as their passionate romps. For some reason, her glib comment upset him and he realized it was not going to sit well with him if he said nothing this time.

"Leliana," he began decisively, swinging his legs over the bed, "if you need some stress relief, I suggest you seek a healer who can work your tired muscles…or perhaps consider joining a prayer group at the Chantry. I don't like how you refer to me as just a _diversion_."

Leliana balked.

"I didn't mean to insinuate that—"

"Did it ever occur to you that there might be more to me than just being a toy for your pleasure? And that I might think of our rapport differently?"

Leliana sat up on her knees on the bed, contemplating a very distraught Jim reaching for his trousers on the ground.

"Jim, why are you getting so upset?" she asked, as he began to pull on his trousers. "I thought we were having fun!" she protested.

"I was having fun! But I am wondering if there could be more between us. I think we could still have fun, and not just between the sheets," he complained. "I would like to spend more time with you…outside the rookery. Maybe take you out to…dinner!"

There. He'd done it. Said what was in his heart. _Well, kinda,_ he surmised.

Leliana squinted.

"A date?" she repeated. "Don't people go on dates precisely to get to the point we are at?" she joked.

"You know, I can't deny that when we first started this," he contemplated the small, cozy room, "it was out of pure attraction," he explained. "But soon after, I realized you intrigued me."

"Intrigued you," she stated, still surprised at his reaction.

"I see how hard you work, how much of yourself you give to the Inquisition, practically living up here, forgoing the comforts of your position. I know you shoulder so much responsibility and have to make peace with so many difficult decisions." He raised his hand at her as she began to interrupt. "I know you are a strong, brave, and intelligent woman."

 _Someone's inspired!_ He thought, marveling at the ease with which he was articulating his thoughts and feelings. _It's just flowing like something...flowing... today!_

"But I also see a more fragile, vulnerable part of you no one else gets to witness," he declared. "I want to be there for you. I want to shelter you when your burdens become too great. I may just be a lowly private, but I don't think you need to have rank to offer someone affection and…" he hesitated, trying to summon the courage. "Love."

Her expression softened.

"That's very…I…" She took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say."

Jim smiled and clasped her hands in his.

"Just say you will let me take you to dinner tomorrow at the Herald's Rest," he asked. "Just say you will give me a chance…That you will try to get to know me and see me as more than an afternoon tryst."

Leliana was deeply touched. Her eyes glistened as she contemplated him, smiling at her so tenderly.

"I don't know, Jim…I am not someone easy to be involved with. As long as we keep things physical, that makes things simpler…but you are asking for an intimacy that is far more complex," she told him. "You know that I am devoted to a cause: that my life has been dedicated to the Chantry's mission, to the Divine…and now, to the Inquisition."

He nodded solemnly.

"You know…there is a high probability I will become the next Divine," she confided. "Perhaps you should offer such a heartfelt proposal to someone who'd be able to be by your side: a companion who'd be able to make a home with you, perhaps raise a family with you someday…"

Jim remained steady.

"Those are excuses. How do you know those are all things I want? Besides, I, too, have dedicated myself to the Inquisition. I think you are afraid," he told her. "I think you hide behind all these excuses and remain distant so you won't get hurt."

Leliana eyes widened with complete wonder.

She had enjoyed her time with him, of course, but had never realized how perceptive he was.

"All I am asking for is a chance, an opportunity for us to get to know each other better, for us to enjoy each other's company," he insisted. "And then we'll see where this goes. What do you say?"

Where was that eloquence coming from? He was being so…eloquent? Was that it? And…Romantic? Who managed to talk about affection and feelings in such a passionate way?

It was as if a little bit of Commander Cullen had rubbed off on him.

She still hesitated.

"How can you give up all the sex you've enjoyed having here? How do you know I'll be enough to satisfy you?" she pointed out.

"Done—and done." He nodded.

"What do you mean?" she tilted her head.

"I haven't been with anyone else since we've begun seeing each other. All I want is to be with you. Give me a chance to prove my feelings," he reiterated, squeezing her hands tighter. "Please," he begged.

Looking at him sitting beside her, so earnest, expressing himself so sincerely…She felt a little flutter in her heart.

" _Your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself_ ," he recited. " _You composed the cadence of my heart_."

Leliana threw her head back and laughed heartily. He'd mixed the verses up, but they were straight from the Canticle of Trials. _Very clever of him_ , she had to concede. _And very sweet._

"All right," she decided. "I will go with you to the Herald's Rest tomorrow. On a _date_ ," she confirmed, coquettishly. "I just know I am about to become the most hated woman in Skyhold," she sighed.

He reached for her and hugged her joyfully.

"But you need to clarify something for me…If we are dating…Does it mean we won't be doing this anymore?" she wondered.

He snorted.

"That's just crazy talk!"

He grasped her around the waist, pulling her over him. He kissed her fervently. He could sense she was getting aroused from the way she began to lightly grind her hips into his groin.

"So…what does that make us now?" he asked her between kisses.

"I suppose we are lovers?"

"Hm…I think it's something else," he whispered, cupping her delicious bottom.

"What?" she asked in a faint voice.

"Technically I am your _boyfriend_ now."

She let out an amused cry.

"No, no…Listen: it's true. I think you need me, because, look," he explained, "you get so hot when I recite a few lines from the Chant. Can you imagine if you're Divine and you're reciting the Chant all day? You're going to need me to take care of your…needs. I just know it," he teased.

She slipped her hand down and stroked the large erection beneath his trousers, making him shudder with pleasure.

"Now who is hot after reciting the Chant?" she provoked, licking her lips as she began to undo the buttons. "You really are incorrigible…That is just so wrong," she scolded him affectionately.

"I know, huh? You should punish me," he grinned. "Oh, do punish me!"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter is the last one. Stay tuned for the epilogue...and thank you for coming along and being such good sports!


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